Messing with Forever
by Gilmoregirl19
Summary: Rory messed with their forever when she rejected his proprosal. Seven months on, she finds herself struggling to get over him. Will a simple e-mail be enough to fix their forever? Or have his attempts to move on been successful? ROGAN. COMPLETE!
1. Question

**My computer crashed this weekend. I planned to write like crazy for Love Game and New York Night II, before cracking open the cover of my Art History book, but seeing the little green light on my laptop die and come back to life, inspired me to skip studying and post a chapt of a story that has been written for... well... forever, just as a hooray for the talented people at the computer shop who fixed my baby. **

**So, please don't be mad. Love Game will be next, followed by NSSL and NYN II. I promise. Summer is _thisclose_ for me and I'll have two months to figure out how to juggle four stories! I'm planning to make this a multi-chap, but let me know if you think its better as a one-shot. Okay, here it goes again! **

**Hope you like this! Enjoy! **

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own GG (I'm putting this in for the whole story) And, the song referred to is "You could be happy" by Snow Patrol. **

* * *

Rory felt him release her from his clammy grip as he rolled away and a wave of relief washed over her sweaty body. He was asleep. Not that she expected him to stay awake for post-sex cuddling as that would not be fitting of their agreement.

She opened her eyes and waited a beat for them to adjust to the darkness of her hotel room before getting up, slipping on her sweats and grabbing her laptop bag. For a moment, she considered taking his hotel keycard from the back pocket of his khakis but she didn't. It wasn't as if she'd be able to get a lot of sleep. In her mind, hotel beds were strictly for two people – couples - and that was something she hadn't been a part of for the past seven months. No, she was alone.

In the great battle of all or nothing, she had taken a risk and lost. However, one could argue that he had done the same.

Instead, she would spend the rest of the night at the always-open hotel bar before returning to her room at four for an hour or so of restless sleep.

It wasn't how she imagined her life to be, but somewhere she figured she deserved it. She had a good three years of complete bliss – it was more than some people got in a lifetime... Rory sighed deeply and took one last look at the sleeping figure on the bed: Owen Mayfield, 26, NYU-graduate. And he had looks that made many teen girls scream and faint, with his Efronesque piercing baby-blues, Joe Jonas flat-ironed hair and Crawfordian abs. He was far from her type, but after her bought her a 'welcome-to-the-trail' drink on her first night, his proposal to be 'friends-with-benefits' seemed like a marvelous idea.

Owen really didn't have to do much to convince her. She was lonely; she missed her Mom, Stars Hallow and her grandparents. Though most of all she missed him, but that was something she wouldn't dare to admit. And Owen seemed nice enough. It was obvious his good looks were his ticket to life, Rory often wondered how he managed to get his degree and secure a job, but it really wasn't her concern. Her relationship with Owen wasn't based on deep conversation as she doubted his capability to hold a thought for more than five minutes and frankly, she did not have the energy to put in the effort. Owen brought her coffee and hugged her when she needed it. He wasn't one to pry, for which Rory was grateful. He was like her own slightly less horny and slightly more compassionate Kelso and that was nice to have.

It didn't stop her from feeling incredibly guilty though; as if she'd been cheating, but she couldn't be cheating. She messed with forever and this was her price to pay.

Rory took her place in one of the modern blue lounge chairs in the corner of the hotel lounge, ordered a coffee, opened her laptop and turned on her IPOD. She absentmindedly scrolled through the playlist, stopping every so often, listening to a few mesmerizing beats of the selected song, before losing interest and skipping through to the next tune.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the waiter walking towards her with a steaming cup of coffee. She undid one of her ear buds to thank him and noted the sound of rain on the roof, like she had for the last two nights.

"Sunshine State, my ass", Rory snorted, her words sounding hollow the near empty room, before taking a sip of her coffee. It was exceptionally bad coffee, and if being on the trail for the last seven months had taught her anything it was bad coffee. Not that she cared. Tonight, like many other nights since, she was restless. She hated sitting here, in a hotel lobby designed, yet failing to emulate the coziness of home, with her thoughts consumed by him.

Logan. Not Owen.

She flicked through another tune as she polished off her nasty coffee. Rory knew she should at least try to get some sleep since she didn't have anything else to do. She had submitted her piece to her editor hours ago, and had worked ahead on her next story. She read all of the gossip blogs, fashion tips and even Miss Manners. According to Miss Manners, declining a proposal and living like a nomad without telling the boyfriend-who-proposed and engaging in casual sex with pretty boys did not constitute as good manners, but who asked Miss Manners, anyway?

Rory emailed her Mom, and albeit reluctantly, her grandmother as well. She had resorted to her I-Pod and bad coffee. Anything to keep her mind off guilt and her thoughts away, far away from him.

_You could be happy and I won't know _

Her breath hitched, she wanted to push the next song button, but could not. She was mesmerized. Damn Lane for sending her different music all the time.

As she listened to the song, it was as if she relived every part of her relationship with Logan. The flirty, no-strings encounters and finally committing. The relaxed Gilmore Pool House days, London, the disastrous "Meet the Huntzberger Dinner", introducing Logan to Stars Hallow, and finally the proposal.

The proposal. She had not been ready. He said it was all or nothing, time for the next step. In that, moment 'no' seemed like the only reasonable – _sane_ - answer. She had not even secured a job, but seven months ago, ultimate freedom was more appealing than the thought of forever. She needed to have an option, _her _options.

Rory wanted to be her own person, first, without the added title of wife of Logan Huntzberger. So, she returned the ring, gently turned him down and he walked away.

Away from her, away from the relationship and away from the possibility of trying to figure things out – make it work - without being engaged. She never contacted him, and when she got the Obama campaign job she accepted, after all, she had wanted options.

But now, sitting in the hotel lounge, with Snow Patrols' melancholy song blasting in her ears, she felt an overwhelming urge to be close to Logan. She knew she wasn't over him – Owen didn't change that – her feelings for Logan ran so much deeper.

Without thinking clearly, she pressed replay once again, flipped open her laptop and opened her Outlook.

Her fingers expertly glided over the touch pad as she clicked on the 'New Mail' icon. In the "TO" box she typed the first letter of his name, L, and his email address appeared. She swallowed – he was still the first on her list. She immediately started typing with certain urgency, as if she needed to get this out or else she might explode.

Don't think. Just do.

* * *

**To**: Logan Huntzberger

**From**: Rory Gilmore

**Subject**: I'm sorry

_Logan, _

_I don__'__t know where to start. I am so sorry. I wish__…__ so many things but right now, but most of all - I wish you were here. I am sitting here in a neon-lit hotel lounge in Florida, drinking cold coffee at three in the morning…. Am I pathetic or what? _

_I guess now is as good a time as ever to let you know I got a job. Surprise! I am blogging about the Obama trail for Politico. Are you proud of me? I always imagine you__'__d be so proud of me, but I suppose you imagined me wearing your grandmother's ring on my finger, too. _

_I… I wish so much that I knew what I wanted sooner__…__..__Logan, I am not proud of the way I handled things. _

_I was wrong. I made the wrong choice. I wanted the world, but I didn__'__t realize that I already had everything I needed. Yes, I wanted options and yes, I wanted to travel, but now that I have that __–__ all I want is you. I want the forever you imagined for us, the forever that that ring represented. Do you think we'll ever get back to that? _

_We have to, Logan. We just... I laugh, but not the way I laughed when I was with you. I enjoy coffee, but no one could set a pot like you. I talk to Lane and my Mom and the people on the trail, but no one can have a conversation, that bounces from politics to Tina Fey and from the Barefoot Contessa to the economy, like us. _

_I miss your smile, your hand on the small of my back, to hear your laugh. God, Logan, how could I be so stupid? Why couldn__'__t I say yes months ago, when you stood before me, holding that beautiful ring wanting to share your future with me__…__.why? _

* * *

By now, tears were streaming down her cheeks and she lifted her fingers from the keyboard. Obviously, she knew why she had said no. She just had anticipated that he would understand and they would wait until she was ready; wait until the doubt in her mind subsided.

She looked at the bold print on her laptop screen. It was true. It was so clear that she was not over him. It was a relief to finally admit that to herself after months of pretending. Rory blinked and focused her gaze on her ring finger. She wanted to be with him. He was the One.

Rory ran a hand through her messy hair, scrolled to the top her email, and reread it. After reading the final, cringe-worthy sentence, she was disgusted. Her rambling was too desperate, too clingy. Too Merideth Grey circa seson two, overall, it was just very unattractive.

If she wanted him to take her back, she would have to play it cool. She did not even know if he was still interested in her. Sure, he proposed but that didn't mean he was now pining for her, living like a monk waiting for her return. It would make it a hell of a lot easier for her, but at the same time, Rory was not holding her breath.

She changed over the last two months; God only knew how much he had changed. Maybe he would angrily delete her electronic correspondence and never contact her again. Ignoring the doubt that filled her mind, Rory pressed the backspace key hard, until all of her sappy note disappeared. Then, she opened a new screen and typed his initial in the 'To' box. She did not know how he would respond – if at all – but, she figured she didn't have much to lose any way.

Rory pressed the repeat button on her music player once again, drawing inspiration from the Snow Patrol tune, and sighed heavily before typing a simple sentence in her e-mail box.

* * *

**To**: Logan Huntzberger

**From**: Rory Gilmore

**Subject**: Question

_Are you happy?_

* * *


	2. RE: Question

****

Surprise! It's not a one-shot! Thank you SO much for the amazing feedback on the first chapter of Messing with Forever. Love, love, love it. You guys are awesome!

* * *

Logan awoke that morning in a slight state of panic. He felt an arm lightly draped across his chest and immediately registered it as a foreign female arm, in that it wasn't Rory's.

"Shit," he thought as alarm bells went off in his head. What exactly happened last night? How did he end up in bed with a strange woman? He didn't feel hung over, but he must have gotten very, very drunk. Logan must have been smashed; he couldn't think of any other reason for doing this to Rory. He was reformed, tamed and proud to be a one-women man for over three years!

He brushed a hand through his unruly morning hair as he stared down at the tan female arm. Purple manicured nails, dark hairs, a tan-line from her watch…

He knew this arm. He had seen this not-Rory arm many times before. Then it hit him.

Not-Rory was Denise. And that was okay, considering he had been seeing Denise for a little over six months. Since – and this hit him the hardest in the morning – Rory had made up her mind and deciding that ultimate freed seemed more promising than the life he offered her upon graduation.

Logan hadn't planned to move on, really. It just happened. After a month of moping and sulking, Finn was fed-up, dragged him to a bar and introduced him to Denise, a knock-out with a short pitch-black bob, which obviously wasn't Finn's type. She wasn't really his type either, but Logan was tired of sleeping in his king sized bed alone. Denise stayed the following night, and the next and Logan decided that for the time being Denise was Miss Just Fine for the Moment, since he had no desire to resort back to his old man-whoring ways. He hated to admit it, but he kind of liked waking up to the same person every day – even if it wasn't his dream girl.

"Morning, baby," he whispered as he gently lifted her manicured hand from his chest and kissed it lightly. Denise's response was a tired mumble and she rolled over.

He looked at her and felt his heart sink a little. Denise was certainly Not Rory. He rolled out of bed, letting her sleeping a little while longer and walked to the kitchen, continuing his morning routine of making coffee and some toast, before installing himself at the breakfast bar and booting up his laptop.

Logan didn't look at his work related emails, or the funny mails Finn sent him or the unread note Honor sent him over ten days ago. No, his eyes locked on that first bold line in his inbox: From: Rory Gilmore, Subject: Question.

His hear beat sped up and a film of anxious sweat covered his palms. Rory was reaching out to him. He had no clue as to what, or why but she was contacting him. Logan deliberately kept at bay, out of respect but mostly out of self-preservation as a man can really only take so much heartbreak.

For a split second, he considered deleting the message but curiosity won out instantly.

* * *

**To**: Logan Huntzberger

**From**: Rory Gilmore

**Subject**: Question

Are you happy?

* * *

"Well, what the hell?" he muttered to his computer. He violently ran his middle finger across the touch-pad of his laptop, trying to scroll down to see if she had included some kind of explanation to her query but she had not.

"Are you happy?" Logan directed his question at the screen, "Who asks that? What kind of person…?"

"Come on now, baby!" Denise called out from the bedroom in a sticky sweet voice. During the course of their relationship, Logan had gotten to know her tones well and the distinct sweetness in her voice meant that she was actually pretty pissed.

"It's early, what's all this yelling about?"

Logan smiled wryly, giving his inner-self a smug 'I-told-you-so'. "Sorry, babe. It's just…some work bull…" he called out over his shoulder, "Want some coffee? It's fresh!"

He heard her shuffle out of the bedroom. "You are cute in the morning…."

"You're not so bad yourself." Logan squeezed in a quick compliment, because he knew she was about to go off on some rant about how caffeine in the mornings was bad, or that she couldn't afford to waste one-hundred and twenty calories on coffee.

"But baby, you know I save my one cup of caffeine calories for Starbucks in the afternoon!"

He glanced down quickly at his cup and then at his laptop, before minimizing the screen. "Let me finish this and we'll go out to breakfast, okay?"

"Breakfast?" She let out a weighty sigh.

"It's Sublime Smoothie Month at that breakfast joint you like…"

He couldn't help but smirk as her features softened in relief. "You are the best boyfriend ever!" she squealed delightedly, as she strutted over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, "Let me just take a shower…"

Denise brushed a seductive kiss on his collarbone before releasing him from her embrace. She made sure to add an extra sexy sway to her step as she walked away from him.

Logan's eyes followed her as she made her way to the bathroom and wasn't surprised that she stopped at the doorway and turned around, "You are welcome to join, baby…"

An approving smirk appeared on his face. Denise was hot, but it didn't come naturally; it was obvious she worked really hard at it, with her perfectly plucked eyebrows and her latest trend bob. He knew that if Anna Wintour declared pink dreads the new It-thing, she would be at the salon tomorrow to get the tightest and brightest dreads. She worked out vigorously and her sexiness did not come from confidence, rather a stance she had perfected over the years, like the little black ruffled hot pants and the black satiny bathrobe she was wearing now. It all scream a little too calculated, a little too desperate.

Maybe it worked for some men, but for him sexy was when Rory drank coffee at the kitchen counter, clad in his white dress shirt, pale pink boy-shorts and fuzzy polka dot socks.

He swallowed, "I'll be in a minute, Denise…" She shot him a satisfied smile as he turned his attention to the laptop.

Logan sipped his coffee as he stared at her question. Was he happy?

Well, no, he wasn't, but he did not want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that. After all, she was the one responsible for his current state. She said no, crushing him. And now, after seven months, she decided that she might as well e-mail him, just to rub it in.

Logan's breathing became heavier as he got angrier, fighting with the image of Rory in his mind.

Why was she doing this? Couldn't she just let it go and let him be? Honestly, she'd done enough. Well, if she wanted to play it like that, then she'd better be prepared to lose. He was about to type Rory a nasty note about how happy he was with his new love Denise, that he was positive that she would say yes to his proposal and that – oh, by the way, - Mitchum and Shira wholeheartedly approve.

However, that thought left his mind as quickly as it entered it as he realized Rory's e-mail wasn't intended to brag about her happiness – she was unhappy. Unhappy without him, unhappy wherever, with whomever she was. She was reaching out and misery loves company.

Logan's heart jumped a beat – maybe all hope wasn't lost. Of course, he regretted how he handled things. He shouldn't have given her an ultimatum. He should have accepted a prolonged engagement, or just have faith that she would come round to the daunting role of Huntzberger wife.

Yet, he wasn't about to write a long, apologetic e-mail and run back in her arms. He had his dignity. Instead, he decided to play it cool, like her.

* * *

**To**: Rory Gilmore

**From**: Logan Huntzberger

**Subject**: RE: Question

Not exactly… Why?

* * *

He watched his message to Rory send and wondered briefly where his correspondence would reach her. He imagined her sitting on her Stars Hallow couch, letting Lorelai read the note first and smiled, letting himself get caught up in all sorts of memories

The sound of the shower running dragged him back to reality. A reality in which a smoking hot girl was standing naked in his shower.

* * *

Some time after reaching out to Logan and practically flooding the hotel lobby with her tears, Rory made her way up back to her hotel room and got comfortable in one of the armchairs. She spent the early hours of the morning alternating between random surfing, obsessively checking her e-mails and watching Owen sleep.

"Like what you see, Lo?"

His raspy morning voice sent an involuntary shiver down her spine and, really, even in his first few moments of morning consciousness he looked like perfection. Owens's carefully flat ironed hair had gone back to its natural curly state and the springy chocolate curls made his bright blue eyes sparkle even more. The stubble on his chin and cheeks looked manly and Rory could see a hint of a sexy six-pack peeking above the white bed linens.

"Always," she smirked from across the room, "But just call me Rory please… "

"Ah, Lo, where's the fun in that?" he asked as he sat up a little straighter, "Rory hurts my mouth to say and Lo just flows off the tongue, you know?"

"Yeah, but…"

"No, no, like this," he stopped her, before clicking his tongue and dragging out his nickname for her in a softy, sultry voice. He snapped out of it and continued, "Besides, your real name is Lorelai, right? It's like a nickname for Lorelai… "

Rory nodded and a happy smile appeared on his face. "So, it's cool?"

A chuckle escaped her as she bobbed her head in contemplation. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

"Excellent!" Owen got up and made his way to her and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "Morning, Lo."

"Morning, Owen." She lifted her arms and they found their way behind his neck, gently pulling him down so she could kiss him on the lips.

After a few moments, he broke off the kissing. "You didn't sleep last night, did you?"

She shook her head. There was no point in lying. In the seven months she'd been seeing him, she rarely spent the whole night curled up next to him and being Friend with Benefits meant she didn't owe him an explanation.

"One day you'll tell me what's bugging you, girlie." He brushed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Rory noted that his tone was laced with concern and she let out a soft sigh – really, she didn't give him the credit he deserved. She mocked his silly comments and live-in-the-moment attitude and told Lorelai he was just a distraction with a painfully pretty face, but in reality he had become a close friend and maybe, Rory thought, maybe he deserved to know the truth.

Owen momentarily left her side to brew some coffee in their little hotel room coffee maker, but continued talking. "You know, I give excellent advice and I know all about women's troubles. I grew up with my mom and my three sisters, I told you that, right?"

"Yeah," Rory nodded as she watched him make her coffee with one cup of creamer and two sugars – just how she liked it.

"And here's the thing, women are generally sulky about three things…"

"Really?" Rory leaned back in her chair, intrigued as to where Owen was talking this. He handed her a Styrofoam cup of caffeine goodness. "Cheers," he told her before he rambled on, "Okay, the first thing – other women. Women are always pissed off by other women. Suzie said I'm fat, Michelle fucked my boyfriend, Teri bought the red sweater I wanted…"

Owen rubbed his free hand over his stubble in thought, "Am I right, or am I right?" he asked finally.

"Yes," Rory laughed nodding.

"Okay, two, hormones – whatever goes on with you ladies I don't want to know - but the whole thing makes you all crazy emotional and on crazy eating binges…For you, it's chocolate, getting annoyed with me if I rest my hand on the back of your neck and occasional crying when you hear a Jesse McCartney song on the radio! "

She cocked her head to the side, shocked that he knew her that well. Especially the Jesse McCartney thing, since that only happened once.

"I told you I had talents!" He laughed at her shocked expression.

"I wouldn't have guessed," she replied softly and urged him to continue.

"Ah, yes, number three," he said in an important tone as he held up three fingers, illustrating his point. "The mens, obviously. The other sex, testosterone, beer…."

Owen stopped as he saw her face drop and he kneeled down to her. "So, who is the jerk?" he asked, resting a hand on her knee.

Rory looked at it, truly touched at his concern as she shot him a wry smile. "He's not a jerk," she said sadly, blinking back a few tears.

"Care to explain that, Lo?" he said with a warm smile, "From where I'm sitting, you are in some crappy hotel room, looking all sad, not sleeping and crying into your coffee – over some guy! And for making you feel like that, the guy is a jerk!"

Owen's logic never failed to put a smile on her face. He was absolutely uncomplicated and she needed that, probably more than she realized.

"So, he's a jerk…" Rory agreed with a soft shake of her head. Owen continued to look at her, silently urging her to continue, which she did, eventually. "He proposed. Right after graduation. And, uh, I turned him down. And, I missed him, so I e-mailed him last night…"

"Wow, Lo! That's some serious stuff!" he exclaimed as he squeezed her hands tightly and dropped his voice to a softer tone, "Why didn't you tell me?"

At first, she had a million reasons. She didn't know him, she couldn't trust him, she didn't want to get hurt again, it was embarrassing, the friends with benefits thing….but as she looked at Owen, with his eyes full of concern, she really couldn't think of a reason.

"I don't know, I just.. it's hard, you know?"

"Hell no! Why would I know?!"

His outlandish response caused her to really laugh for the first time that morning.

"Babes, you know I don't do relationships. Look at the mess you got yourself into, e-mailing and shit. I don't want the hassle!"

"But?"

"No, no buts! You and I, we are having fun, right?" Owen grinned at her.

Rory ran a hand through his soft hair. "Yeah…"

"And were you and this other guy…"

"Logan."

"Were you and Logan having fun?" he asked

"We were in a relationship for three years, Owen, you can't compare that…"

"Maybe not," he shrugged, "But here's the thing, Lo. You and I, we are young and beautiful and this is our time to have fun. So, starting today we are going to have fun and put that guy, Logan, out of your mind, okay? It's my new goal in life."

Owen looked at her with a big smile and the sparkle for life in his eyes. She laughed at his enthusiasm for his newfound goal; yet, she couldn't help feel the tiniest bit uncomfortable at his promise. It seemed as though he was inching towards commitment and that was something Rory absolutely did not want.

"Don't look at me like that, Lo," he warned playfully, "I'm your friend first, benefits second and boyfriend _never_, remember?"

She let out a relieved sigh as he repeated the exact words he pitched his friends with benefits proposal to her all those months ago.

"How could I forget, Mr. Mayfield?" she asked with a smirk.

"Good." He clapped his hands together. "Okay, now, to ring in the Era of Fun we will…." He paused to look around the room and turned the TV on.

"The next song that comes on VH1 Classics will be our anthem and I want you to get up and dance your cute little ass around this room, okay?"

"What? Are you fourteen?"

"I had sisters and my sisters were relationship-stunted. We had break-up wallowing parties every two weeks for every year of high-school…" he sighed and a smile tugged at her lips. To her, it sounded like Owen grew up in a household Lorelai Gilmore would be proud of.

"It better not be Jesse McCartney!" Rory warned in jest as she got up and took her dancing position. Owen got next to her, gently wiggling his arm around her waist.

"Ready?" he asked looking down at her. She locked her blue-eyes to his and let herself, for the first time in a while, get caught up in the moment. A gorgeous and really nice guy friend was right by her side asking her to have a little fun and she was too busy being depressed. It was time for a revolution.

She nodded her head with clear determination. "I'm ready, Owen."

And with that, he pressed the remote control and the room filled with the iconic drumbeats of Cyndi Lauper's 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." And, like a fourteen year old girl, Rory let out a squeal of delight, grabbed the remote from Owen's hands and used it as a microphone.

"I come home in the morning light…"

Dressed in nothing but his blue dress shirt, cotton panties and green fuzzy socks, she danced around the room, Owen in tow, both singing their lungs out and making good on their promise to have fun.

* * *

_So, here's the thing. I'm kind of liking Owen….__What do we think about these latest developments? You know I'm dying to know!! _

_PS: The Self-Appointed Princess of Procrastination (me) has the last exam of the season on Tuesday, so don't expect weekend updates. Until I'm officially on vacation on July 2, updates will be sort of…whenever! _

_And thank-you, thank-you, thank-you I can't say it enough!!! _


	3. Bad, Bad, Coffee

****

Hello lovelies! Summer is finally here, though it won't officially start for me until Thursday night, when I'm sitting at my Dad's counter, sipping an icy cold Coke from his fridge. It's weird how summer is defined by things like that. Anyway, hopefully it'll be a summer of semi-regular updates after I've recovered from the worst of the jetlag, but you know me, so we'll see! Thank-you for all the awesome reviews on this story!!!

**Hope summer is treating you well & enjoy!**

* * *

"Oh my god!" Owen exclaimed with theatrical flair as he pushed open the hotel room door. "Thank the Lord above that we survived that! Seriously, Lo, just how many balding guys with nasal voices can one city have?"

Rory wasn't paying attention to Owen's dramatics as she made her way over to the bed, completely engrossed in her notebook. "Hey, did you catch what Peterson said on global warming?" she asked, looking up to meet his blank stare.

"Peterson…" Owen repeated slowly as he ran a hand up and down his chest in thought. "Doesn't ring a bell…"

She stared at him in a brief moment of disbelief. "So, you don't know?"

"Afraid not, babes," he casually shrugged, before stealing a quick kiss and turning to the dresser.

Rory felt a tiny smile tug at her lips as she shot another glance at her notes, deciding that they could wait. She rolled over on the bed and rested her hands on her stomach. "So, tell me why you took this job again?" she asked in a teasing tone.

"Pick up chicks, travel the country, get away from my sisters…" He responded with amusement lacing his tone as Rory's smile grew wider. Despite the tedious press conferences, today had been a good day. She had fallen right back into her comfortable banter with Owen and now, resting on the bed, she suddenly felt the most relaxed she had in months.

"Oh, come on, you love your sisters!" she shot back, laughing.

Owen stopped rummaging through the dresser drawer and turned to her slowly, pretending he was deep in thought. "That I do..." He tilted his head forward, 'but I like you better."

"Only because I sleep with you," Rory replied in a mock-dull tone. Suddenly, Owen's perfectly tanned face was blocking her view of the white ceiling and she found herself staring up at his striking blue eyes.

"There's more to it than that, babes."

"Is that so?" she asked with a flirtatious smile.

"Certainly." A soft laugh escaped his lips. "For example, you've never made me play 'Pretty, Pretty, Princess' or sent me to kindergarten with pink nails …"

As Owen leaned in to close the gap between them, the strong taste of guilt hit her and her stomach tightened. Logan was always a subtle presence in her mind, but sometimes he unexpectedly crashed these moments with Owen. Rory rolled her head away, breaking the moment, before sitting up straight and grabbing her notebook.

"What are you doing there, babes?" Owen asked, thoughtfully though unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.

Rory looked up, but didn't look him in the eye. "I'm just going over my notes," she sighed, running a hand through her hair, "One of us is going to have to figure out Pete's views on global warming for Sunday's spread…."

"Not tonight we don't," Owen quipped in his usual light tone. "Girlie, it's Friday night and that means….."

"Friday Night at my house was scheming, guilt and gossip served up in a three-course meal…" she muttered before she could even process what she was saying. Owen really only knew about Rory's small town upbringings as she'd intentionally left him completely in the dark about her complicated life story. Secretly, she hoped he hadn't heard her, since she didn't feel like racking up more of her past tonight.

"Speak up, babes!" he laughed, staying true to his non-prying nature, "men don't like mutters, unless it's extremely dirty…."

Rory snorted and shook her head in awe – this guy was really just too much. "I said the bus leaves at five in the morning."

"So?" he shrugged, "It's not like you need much sleep anyway!" He made sure to keep his tone light; however, Rory did pick up on traces of newfound concern.

"Owen…" she tried to negotiate, but it was no use. "Besides, Lola, you made me a promise!"

"But…"

"No, I don't want to hear it!" He raised his hands to silence her as he continued in an animated way, "a vow, a pledge, you gave me your word. You, Rory Gilmore, promised me, Owen Mayfield, that you were just a girl, one that wanted to come home in the morning light and just wanted to have fun and so tonight we must have fun!" He grabbed the remote near the TV and held it in front of her as a makeshift microphone.

"Now what do you say, girlie?"

Rory mumbled something but he swiftly interrupted. "No, no. It goes like this…" Owen coughed and held the remote close to his mouth and started singing the words of their newly appointed anthem. Rory held back her laughter; she was trying to be serious!

"But what if my idea of fun is writing this article?" Her innocent sounding question broke him from his Cyndi Lauper moment and he crossed his arms over his chest before locking his eyes to hers. "You forget that when I met you, you had a margarita in hand, while you were belting out 'I will survive at the bar', warning patrons every so often to not eat the urine mints…"

Rory winced at the mention of that night. It had definitely been a bad night. "Well, I have a broad definition of fun and people should know about urine mints…"

Owen suppressed a laugh as he shook his head. "Not buying it, babes. You and I have a date at the bar. Happy hour, two for one, drinks on me…"

"Date, huh?" Rory asked, a sly smile appearing on her face as she knew his word-choice would make him freak out.

"In the total non-commitment way," he clarified as he turned to her. Owen's unease faded just as quickly as it came once he saw the now teasing look on Rory's face. "An appointment, if you will. An appointment to have fun…" He raised his eyebrow suggestively.

She sat quietly on the bed, contemplating his offer. Owen simply shrugged at her silence, before taking a dark green polo from the dresser. He proceeded to change his shirt, making sure Rory got a good, long, teasing look at his chiseled torso.

"All right," she gave in, surprising herself somewhat. Since when did a bare male chest cause her to loose focus?

Owen shot her a triumphant smile as he walked over and kissed her. "I knew you would," he said cockily, as he grabbed her hand, ready to help her up from the bed.

"I'm just going to check my email first," she said, pulling back.

"Babes…."

"I'll be down in a minute," she assured him, stealing another kiss. "I just want to write my mom a quick note…"

"Fine," he replied. 'But if I find out you've been doing research or writing, I'll be forced to kick your cute little butt."

"Order me something sweet and fruity, okay?" Rory asked, successfully ignoring his other statement. She made sure to shoot him another flirtatious look as he left the room, before grabbing her laptop.

The back-to-back press conferences had kept her thoughts away from the three-word email she had sent to him early this morning, but the almost-kiss with Owen caused Logan to take center stage in her mind's eye.

As she waited for her computer to boot up, she weighed the possibilities in her mind. She couldn't imagine him not responding. Rory had a tendency to shut-down and tune-out; Logan would confront his battles head-on.

A shaky finger guided the pointer to the icon on her desktop and she could barely look as the computer retrieved her mail. Three messages from Lorelai popped up, followed by one from Chris, one from her grandparents, a note from Lane, a forwarded e-mail from Paris… Her heart sank a little since she figured that if Logan hadn't replied immediately he probably would not answer her at all. Just as she felt her breathing become heavy as realization hit, a tiny ping alerted her of the last message.

A barely audible gasp escaped her lips.

_To: Rory Gilmore. From: Logan Huntzberger Subject: Re: Question. _

Rory didn't dare look away out of fear the message would disappear, however she couldn't quite bring herself to click on it either. Just moments ago she experienced the agonizing feeling of his rejection when she assumed his e-mail would not be appearing in her inbox. Now she wasn't so sure she'd be able to handle possible actual rejection. Rory let herself sink back in the pillows behind her and she tried making a mental pro-con list. Her attempts were fruitless, since the soft hum of her laptop distracted her, just like the unopened message that mocked her.

Frustrated by the continuum of 'what if's' that ran through her mind she accepted her fate with a swift click on her keypad and quickly ran her eyes of his words that graced the screen.

_**To**__: Rory Gilmore _

_**From**__: Logan Huntzberger _

_**Subject**__: RE: Question_

_Not exactly. Why?_

He wasn't happy! Logan wasn't happy! She wasn't happy! They weren't happy! Rory's heart swelled so much it practically burst, but as the initial excitement and relief quickly wore off, she realized that his three-word reply didn't really say much of anything at all. She ran her finger down the touch pad, hoping that it would somehow magically add more to his short note, but it didn't. .

She read the e-mail again and her megawatt smile slowly turned into a frown. He didn't say he wasn't happy _without her, _he was just 'not exactly' happy in general. And though, on first read, his "why" sounded sympathetic, like he was reaching out; it now stood at the end looking almost hostile.

"Why?" she said to the empty room, in an agitated voice. "Why are you bothering me, Rory?"

She waited a beat, letting the words replay in her head and realized that his response wasn't as receptive as it appeared on first glance. A wave of dread hit her and she jolted up from the bed.

* * *

Rory easily spotted Owen as she entered the hotel bar. He stood there, resting his arm on the bar, chatting up a curly blond. However, it was as if he could feel Rory's presence and he immediately craned his neck, locked eyes with her and shot her a dazzling smile.

She acknowledged him with a short nod and he broke off whatever conversation he was having with the blonde and strutted over.

"Jeez, Lola," he exclaimed with a laugh, "It took you long enough to get down here!"

She shot him a halfhearted smile and took the beer he held out for her. Rory took a long swig, welcoming the familiar burn of the sour fizz in her throat.

"Who's the blonde?" she asked, pointing her beer bottle in the direction of the bar.

Owen quickly turned his head and saw that the blonde was still busy shamelessly checking him out. "Tami," he responded with a shrug.

There was no jealously, or cover-ups between Rory and Owen. Since they were friends first, benefits second and _never_ boyfriend and girlfriend, there was no point. Especially in the beginning both Owen and Rory had been with others, though it had been a while since either one of them had been out with someone else.

Rory took another swig of her drink, keeping a watchful eye on Tami. "Cute," she said, with a sarcastic undertone as refocused her gaze at Owen. "You really shouldn't have rushed over here for me…"

He frowned at her, slightly concerned by her distant attitude. "What's going on, babes? You don't look too hot," he said, brushing her arm lightly. His affectionate gesture caused a small lump to form in her throat.

"Nothing," she managed as her voice cracked slightly, "I'm just going to get another beer…"

Owen gently grabbed her wrist, forcing her back to him. Rory shot him an annoyed look, but he kept his gaze firmly on her. His sparkly blue eyes silently urging her to confide in him. "Hey, just tell me…"

Functioning on virtually no sleep made it difficult to keep her irritated look. But there was more to it. The guilt, regret and heartache made her an emotional train wreck and was just so tired of it all. Rory leaned in, allowing herself fully into Owen's embrace. The stood there for a few minutes, Owen gently swaying them back and forth to the rhythm of the music, making it seem like they were indeed having fun at the bar.

The battle she was fighting still carried on inside. Should she confide in Owen; would she be crossing too many boundaries, or did their arrangement guarantee that no boundaries could be crossed simply because they didn't exist or were never established?

"Logan," she whispered to his chest, before she could determine the outcome of her mental pro-con list. Rory pulled back slightly so as to gauge his reaction.

The smallest smirk played at his lips. "I am Owen."

Rory cocked her head to the side and shot him an appreciative look – he was always able to deflate the seriousness of any situation. "I know."

He responded with a short nod before taking her hand and leading her to a quieter area of the bar. "So, tell me, what did the jerk do now?"

"He's not a jerk," Rory said, trying to muster up a tone of disapproval but it all came out sounding sad and deflated.

"We've had this conversation before.." Owen said slowly, "but alright, what did Logan do?" he asked, emphasizing Logan's name.

"He wrote me back…"

"And it wasn't what you expected?" Owen interjected breezily, but he softened his tone as he caught the poignant look on her face. Rory shook her head softly, before resting her chin in her hand, as if she needed that support to keep her head from snapping clean off her neck.

"Look at it this way, babes," he continued, "he couldn't have ignored you completely. At least now you know he cares enough to reach out to you – even if it's to get mad…"

"He didn't get mad," Rory clarified the e-mail situation for him, "he was just…." She sighed at his questioning look. "I don't know, Owen."

He shot her a quick smile and placed his hand on her knee. "It's okay. Look, girlie, his answer wasn't what you expected so the way I see it, you now have two options."

Rory looked up at him, curious as to what her apparent options were.

"You can choose to ignore him…" Owen laughed as Rory's eyes went wide, "which is clearly the path you do not wish to follow and that's cool. It just means that now you have to write him back…"

"I can't," Rory told him, but he didn't want to listen. "Sure you can, I'll help. Let me see this email."

She shot him a hard look, letting her eyes rest on his blue eyes, before slowly looking down at his perfect nose and gorgeous lips. Rory was looking for traces of mocking or insincerity – she had come to known him as a very genuine person and she needed him to be that tonight. Rory couldn't handle it all otherwise; he had more or less become her rock.

"Come on, babes?" he asked, "What do you say?"

Rory smiled slightly, though she couldn't help but wonder why this seemingly perfect guy wanted to spend time – and help - a basket case such as herself.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked as she stood up from the couch.

"Our promise, Lola!" Owen answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Besides, this campaign trail is boring. You are a constant source of entertainment."

"I'm glad my pain causes you enjoyment," Rory deadpanned, but she smiled as he smirked.

"Didn't mean it like that, babes."

"I know," she said softly, before leaning in for a hug.

Owen and Rory sat across from each other, Indian style on the bed, Rory with her computer on her lap.

* * *

"Okay, it's this one," she said, handing over the laptop to Owen. It didn't take long for him to finish the exchange of emails and he shot her an incredulous look.

"You seriously sent that?"

"Yes, why?" she shot back rather hotly, which caused him to smirk. "You still want my help, Lola?"

Rory dropped her head. Of course she wanted his help and she needed to keep her cool. She looked up to shoot him an apologetic smile, before nodding. "I'm sorry."

He waved his hand, "No worries. I'm just surprised."

"Why?"

"This whole 'Are you happy?' crap," Owen responded, handing the laptop back. "It just so – random…I mean, do you want him back or not?"

She let his question sink in. Obviously, she didn't want to get back to the place they'd been, because as much as she loved him, marriage wasn't an option. And yet, she missed him terribly.

"I don't know. I just… We were… complicated, but we were together for three years. He proposed, I said no, but I didn't say no to our relationship, you know?"

"No," he smirked, "but that's okay. I catch your drift."

"I just miss him, I guess. We were never really friends before we got together, but I just miss talking to him and I think about him…"

"You want closure," Owen decided for her and she bobbed her head in contemplation. That sounded reasonable.

"Yeah, maybe," she agreed as he continued. "What you want to do is keep the ball in your court. This whole question nonsense gives him control. Is that what you want?"

"No."

"That's what I thought."

"So, what do I do?"

"Talk to him. Write to him as if he was sitting across from you and tell him what you want to tell him; just make sure you don't cross the desperate line…."

Rory smiled a little as she thought of her first e-mail. Owen was right.

He scooted off the bed.

"Where you going?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Back to the bar," Owen pressed a light kiss on her head, "to give you some time to figure out your e-mail situation."

Rory pressed a soft kiss on his lips. "Say hi to Tami."

He nodded slowly, a tiny smile forming on his face.

"I'll be back in a few – I want to read what you wrote, so don't delete it!" he warned playfully.

Rory smiled, as he gave her a few final pointers. "Be strong, steer clear from too many 'love-you-and-miss-you's and you'll be fine, girlie."

She waited for the door to click shut, before pulling the laptop on her lap. Rory started typing, not bothering to try to drown out her thoughts with music, or television. A strange sort of calm washed over her. Maybe it was Owen's advice, maybe she had accepted that she was doing this out of closure – like he suggested – or maybe she had finally cracked and would take up residence at the loony bin tomorrow. Whatever the case, it just flowed.

* * *

_**To**: Logan Huntzberger _

_**From**: Rory Gilmore _

_**Subject**: Bad Coffee _

_That's right, I blame bad, bad coffee for my random and uncalled for question. The coffee here is just so awful and it messes with my ability to think clearly. I'm sure you remember how I get when I don't have access to a good cup of Hot Delicious Coffee. _

_Here is Florida hotel, by the way. I am covering the campaign trail for Politico. I took that job after graduation. I thought about telling you a million times, but I didn't and I'm not sure way. Maybe yesterday's e-mail was me finally caving – you are still on my mind from time to time. _

_Anyway, I hope this finds you in a place that has much better coffee than here. _

_Rory_

* * *

She re-read the e-mail and sent it, feeling completely at ease with the content of her note. It wasn't much, but it didn't need to be much. There was no point in spilling everything to him; she didn't want to spook him with the intensity of her emotions. At the same time, she realized that Owen wasn't right about 'keeping the ball in her court' – it would always be up to Logan whether to reply. That was his prerogative.

"How'd you do?" Owen asked as he entered the hotel room.

Rory silenced the TV and shot him a wide smile. "Good." She pointed at her computer, "I left it open for you."

He rubbed his hands together excitedly, scanned the e-mail and nodded approvingly. "Very balanced, a little evasive to get his attention and not at all desperate."

Owen closed the laptop before flopping down on the bed next to her. "I must say, I'm very impressed, girlie." Rory smiled and pressed a kiss on his lips. Pulling back, Rory asked about Tami.

"She hooked up with Bill, or Phil, whatever that dude with the flip-flops is called…"

"You mean Gary?" Rory asked with a laugh.

"Him, too." Owen chuckled as Rory snuggled up closer to him and the pair went back to watching the movie.

What Rory didn't know; however, is that Owen did not so much as cast another glance in Tami's direction as he took his place at the bar. Instead, he drank a beer or two at the bar, talking to the bartender and doing his best to avoid the approving looks the girls were giving him. Then again, Owen knew that if he told Rory this, she would have gone back to her room, instead of resting her head on his broad chest, snoring contently, enjoying the first real sleep she had gotten in a long, long while.

* * *

_So? What did you think? : ) _


	4. RE: Bad, Bad, Coffee

**Miss Coffeelover328 asked me if I was still writing this and when that happens I suppose you know it's time to update! Thank you and thanks to all you lovely readers and reviewers for giving your love to this story. As you might remember, last chapter was very Owen Rory focused. Rory once again reaching out to Logan, but leaning heavily on Owen for advice and support. And he, the guy who won't do commitment, finds himself falling for Rory. Though this chapter won't deal with any of that, we are back in Logan's world!**

**Enjoy and to all those desperately awaiting an update for The Not So Simple Life – soon. It'll be soon! Promise. Much Love! **

* * *

Logan's gaze was fixed on the television screen in front of him, but he wasn't taking in a word the finance analyst was saying. He could care less about the decreasing stocks and fragile economy, but the analyst's chatter filled the room with noise, which was a welcome distraction.

It had been three days since he had received his latest e-mail from Rory, in which she blamed terrible coffee for her initial e-mail with that provoking three-word question. He had spent a great chunk of the weekend analyzing her note and weighing his options as how to respond to it.

Five lines long. Seven sentences, one-hundred and twenty-two words long, though it contained so much more than that. Logan knew now that she was in Florida, she had a job. Rory was on the trail and even though she tried to sound strong, he could tell that she hadn't really moved on.

She thought about him from 'time to time', though if he still knew Rory like he had, that meant that she thought about him all the time, but she was just too proud to come out and say it. Hell, he was too proud to come out and say it – his evasive reply to the first note proved just that and that's why it was so crucial to answer this one 'correctly', if he didn't want to blow his chances.

The pleasant finance-voice was replaced by a yelling, demanding commercial voice, which tempted Logan to mute the blasted TV and open his laptop that rested on the coffee table next to his feet. If he hadn't forced himself to take his gaze away from the electronic device, he was sure he'd be sitting on his couch, fingers hovering over the keyboard, like some kind of addict.

He, like her, had a way with words but nothing seemed right. No matter how many words the English language contained, nothing seemed to embody what he wanted to say. If he were to be completely honest with himself, he wanted nothing more than to put this whole mess behind them and continue as they were before the proposal but he couldn't just come out and tell her that.

And not one of the 122 words indicated that she was awaiting his reply. Had she asked him a question, or requested his help in proof-reading – strictly professional of course – than he was obliged to reply, but now it was entirely up to him.

"Hey, baby!"

Logan jerked his head to meet the chipper voice and let out a sigh when he saw Denise. Logan didn't know who else he'd expect to see other than his girlfriend of seven months. He stood up from the couch, silencing the TV.

"Hey, you," he said lightly as he made his was over to her. "You get off work early?"

"No," she bit her bottom lip coyly, "It's okay I used the key, right?"

"Definitely." Logan pressed a tender kiss on her pink-lipstick stained lips. "I gave you that key and I want you to use it."

Denise leaned in for another kiss and he obliged, teasingly deepening it, before pulling away. "Well, I'm glad, because I plan on using it often," she told him, though Logan detected a hint of disappointment in her tone, since he broke off the mini-make-out-session.

He smirked at her and a comfortable calm fell over the apartment. "What do you want for dinner, baby?" Denise asked breaking the silence.

"Oh, uh," Logan ran a hand through his hair. "I'll cook…" He really, really wasn't interested in Denise's low-carb tofu wraps or something equally disgusting.

"No," she shook her sharp black bob flirtatiously. "I want to cook."

A soft groan escaped him, which caused her to raise a surprised eyebrow. Instead of getting mad, she pressed her flat palm to his chest and left it there for a moment, before running her index finger up his chest.

"Don't worry, baby. It's cheat week," she laughed playfully and tapped her manicured finger on his nose. "I'll be making fettuccini Alfredo." She smacked her lips in anticipation. "It'll be delicious!" And with that, she turned on her heel and headed for the kitchen.

Logan couldn't help but trail behind her. In their six months of dating there had been twelve cheat weeks and they had all been absolutely marvelous. Denise was still her sassy self, but she was more spontaneous and a little less high-maintenance. However, Logan had yet to determine what brought on a 'cheat week' since they didn't occur with regular intervals. Whatever the case, cheat-week-Denise was his favorite Denise.

He had been so wrapped up in figuring out the cause for this special occasion, he didn't realize she stopped walking and he bumped into her. His hands found their way to her hips and she turned around to meet his gaze.

"Baby," she whined teasingly, "Not now. I'm starving!"

He smirked at her and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips. "Anything I can help you with?"

"No." She pointed to the breakfast bar. "Sit your pretty self down and I'll make you some dinner."

He smiled gratefully. Denise was an excellent cook. Logan stood there, teasingly in her way so she bargained with him. "I'll even get you a drink!"

"Why didn't you say so sooner?!" he joked. "You know the way to my heart is through the distillery!

"Oh, shut up," Denise laughed as she poured some white wine in a glass. He frowned slightly. White wine was not exactly what he had been looking for, but he would take it. He installed himself at the breakfast nook and watched her float through the kitchen.

This was where she was in her element, and the way she looked at him let him know that she had no desire to leave any time soon.

"Hey, baby, can you open this?' she asked, putting a box of pasta in front of him. "It's like, super-glued shut…"

He smiled and easily opened the box.

"My hero," she shot back with a dazzling smile. He continued to watch her, though he couldn't help his thoughts wandering. It was five thirty in San Francisco, meaning it was 8:30 in Florida. Or perhaps, she had already moved on. For a second, he wished that he tuned into the political news prior to the financial reports.

Either way, she'd probably be holed up in some hotel room, with substandard coffee and a lumpy bed feverishly pounding the keys of her laptop. She'd probably have a pencil tucked into her bun and her corner of her bottom lip would be slightly swollen, a direct result of all the deep-thought that went into the article.

But, then again, maybe not. Maybe the crew was winding down after a long day of press conferences and what not. Maybe she'd change into a pair of tight jeans or short dress and undo her hair of its professional bun.

In his mind, the press conference seemed very much like senior year of college – close living quarters, wild parties and the whisper of work – and Rory had taken full advantage of that. Back then, he approved of her party-going ways. After all, she was on his arm and they were in it together. Guys that hit on her he'd shoo away. The thought of her getting drunk on tequila shots and beers without his watchful eye…

"Hello? Earth to Logan?" Denise's soft voice filtered through and he startled.

"What?" He followed up with an immediate apology.

She smiled softly at him. "Where are your thoughts these days? Is it that investor deal? Let it go, baby. If it was meant to be it would have happened…"

He shot her a crooked smile back. His company had been thisclose to striking a lucrative deal with an investors group, but they backed out last minute. He called Denise and she came over immediately, equipped with fruit salad and low-fat, sugar-free pudding, fully prepared to console and wallow. After hours of analyzing the bust, she convinced him that the deal, quite simply, wasn't meant to be.

He was about to brush her off and blame the investors, but maybe she deserved to know. She had her quirks - but then who didn't? - though she had been nothing but a great, sexy, funny girlfriend. No one forced him to give her that key…

"It's not that," he told her, swirling the last sip of wine around in his glass.

"Does this conversation need more wine?" she asked with a laugh, and started pouring – not waiting for the answer.

She turned the knobs on the stove so that the food wouldn't burn as she had a feeling that this conversation would be a long one.

"Thanks," he said, raising the wineglass to her. She waited eagerly for him to continue, but he didn't. Instead, the vacant look reappeared on his face.

"Baby. What's going on?" she asked, "If it's not the investors, then what? Something else at work?" She paused to swallow. "Is, is it me?"

Logan felt the faint hurt in her tone and looked up, his eyes instantly meeting hers.

"No Denise," he said softly, genuinely, "It's not you. You are the best – I love you."

As her face lit up, his heart stopped.

He had never been particularly free-and-easy with those three words and Denise had always been more of an 'actions speak louder than words' girl, so 'I' 'love' and 'you' had never been constructed like that before.

"Aw," she said, casting a glance to her pasta Alfredo. "If I knew you were going to say that I would have made something more special!"

An uncomfortable laugh escaped him and she locked her eyes to his. "Oh, you are waiting for me to say it back!" She tapped her forehead lightly and let out a coy laugh as she walked around the bar.

Denise grabbed Logan's hands in her own. "Don't look so worried, baby," she said, matching his genuine tone from before, "I love you, too."

A half-hearted smile appeared on his face. "You do?" Of course she does he thought arrogantly – he saw the way she pranced around his kitchen, cooking them romantic dinners, using his key….

"Logan, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," she said softly, and she looked away, not completely meeting his gaze.

The emotion that filled the room as she spoke made it crystal clear she wholeheartedly meant every single word.

It was a rare display of vulnerability for the girl, who, apart from being self-conscious about her food intake and early mornings grumpiness, was upbeat.

It occurred to him , as silence fell over the apartment, that he knew very little about her past. Logan knew she grew up in Los Angeles, got a degree in marketing at Berkley and moved to San Francisco for a job at an advertising agency. But really, those are things one would touch on during a first, second or third date.

Logan scooted off the barstool and wrapped her in a tight hug as he placed gentle kisses in her hair.

It felt nice to be loved, nice to be needed and he decided that it didn't really matter if he knew if she had brothers or sisters, or a pet dog growing up. What mattered was that she was here now, wrapped in his arms – loving him.

He used his index finger to gently lift her chin, forcing her to look at him.

"You've never looked prettier than tonight," he smiled warmly, "and Alfredo is the perfect celebratory dinner…."

Denise silenced him with a kiss. Pulling back, she shot him a deliriously happy smile. "You know what would make it even better?"

"What's that, baby?"

"Ice cream sundaes…"

"We'll go out for dessert," Logan suggested, knowing that the freezer was absolutely empty, but Denise was shaking her head, running her tongue over her pink-stained lips. Logan's eyes temporarily glazed over in lust, as she leaned in and whispered her dessert plans in his ear.

"I'll just go out and get the sundae fixings then," he said, fighting the amused smirk that threatened to appear on his face.

"Well, it is cheat week…" Denise said with a flirtatious wink.

He quickly grabbed his wallet, phone and keys and headed for the door. He stopped to turn back and look at her, fussing over the sauce and slicing tomatoes for in their salad. She caught his gaze and looked up.

"I love you, baby."

"I love you, too."

He closed the door behind him, hastily making his way to the elevator. Luckily, it was empty and he let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding as he entered. It was like it was a disease. _I love you. _He couldn't just say it once, he had to say it a billion times.

Annoyed with himself and confused with the situation, he rested his head against the wall and cursed softly. What in all the was holy just happened?

* * *

It was four in the morning and he was wide awake, lounging back in his office chair, eyes focused on the ceiling, looking for solutions to problems he didn't realize he created.

Telling Denise he loved her was a big problem. Mainly because it was a lie – one that rolled effortlessly off his lips – but a lie nonetheless.

He cared for Denise; she helped him through his darkest days – he must have been a sorry sight that drunk night at the bar. But she'd stayed with him and eased his mind off Rory. She planned their dates and through that brought back the spirit, that taste for adventure, he had in college.

Logan had convinced himself he needed her, but in reality he thought of her as a good friend – a great friend, considering she came with – and initiated most of – the benefits. Denise was a person with her heart in the right place, but ultimately, it wasn't her heart he was after.

It was Rory's.

He didn't feel right lying to Denise, leading her on, but, looking back wasn't that what he had been doing for the past six months? He knew he couldn't do better than her six months a go and he had become accustomed to the idea of a relationship. She was there, willing, waiting so he happily obliged. And Denise's insecurities and her pleasing nature stroked his ego and made him feel needed, which was nice after Rory so rudely commandeered her independence.

It was a harsh reality; but didn't everything seem much crueler in the hazy four-in-the-morning state?

But Rory, she was everything Denise wasn't and everything he wanted. With a frustrated swivel, his chair stood before his desk again and he opened the e-mail that had been plaguing his thoughts for the last few days.

* * *

**To**: Logan Huntzberger

**From**: Rory Gilmore

**Subject**: Bad Bad Coffee

_That's right, I blame bad, bad coffee for my random and uncalled for question to you. The coffee here is just so awful it messes with my ability to think clearly. I'm sure you remember how I get when I don't have access to a good cup of Hot Delicious Coffee._

_Here is Florida hotel, by the way. I am covering the campaign trail for Politico. I took that job after graduation. I thought about telling you a million times, but I didn't and I'm not sure way. Maybe yesterday's e-mail was me finally caving – you are still on my mind from time to time. Anyway, I hope this finds you in a place that has much better coffee than here._

_Rory_

* * *

He ran his eyes over the so-familiar words one more time and decided that it was time for action. His fingers pounded each key with a sense of urgency; as if each keystroke underscored his decision.

* * *

**To**: Rory Gilmore

**From**: Logan Huntzbergr

**Subject**: RE: Bad, Bad Coffee

_This most certainly finds me in a place with better coffee. San Francisco is full of quirky little coffee places and I moved Irwin – the coffee maker – cross-country and as I'm sure you can remember; he makes an excellent brew. Despite the lousy coffee and being in Florida (I don't know how you can stand being that close to Mickey Mouse!), congratulations on landing the job!_

_And this isn't working…._

_Look, Rory. I'm not the exchanging pleasantries type of guy. I can't write you and pretend we don't share a past, okay? And I know you are probably pouting behind your laptop wondering why I even replied in the first place – and it took me three days to realize this – but you are still on my mind 'from time to time', too._

_So, I was thinking that maybe we should try to be friends. Obviously we are already acquainted so friends seems like a good step, don't you think? I know a lot of stuff has happened, and I know there is every possibility you've moved on, and/or never want to think of me again so I'm taking a real chance here, Rory, but I'd really like to try to be your friend. Pen-pals. It would make me happy and perhaps then I'll be able to give a better answer to your question._

_So, what do you say…. Friends?_

* * *

He watched the e-mail send before closing the top of his computer and a strange sense of relief washed over him. So it was a little on the desperate side and it went a little bit against his resolve to keep his mended heart from getting broken again, but at least he had gotten it off his chest.

Logan tiptoed back into the bedroom and crawled up next to Denise, who instantaneously curled up to him, finding her nook.

A sleepy smile appeared on his face as he pressed a light kiss on her hair.

And even if he lost all chances have having a blissful life with Rory, he knew he could experience at least something that resembled happiness with Denise.

* * *

_Well, well. It's a tangled relationship web these four have managed to weave, don't you think? Interested to find out your thoughts on Logan (I'm thinking he's kind of a jerk for lying to Denise – poor girl has no clue!) Please don't forget to review!!! Much love! _


	5. Friends

**Woah. What happened to summer? Anyway, enjoy it while it lasts. I wish I could have updated this sooner as a thank-you for the great reviews on the last chapter. I laughed so much – everyone hates Denise, some of you try to justify Logan's behavior, while others are literally screaming at the poor (and may I point out fictional) boy! Love it! Though I suspect that there will be screaming at the end of this chapter, too. So, I'll leave it at this. Much Love. **

* * *

"You are awfully quiet," Owen said, glancing up from his breakfast menu. He half-expected her to meet his gaze, mutter an apology and break out in a dazzling smile, but Rory kept her eyes on the menu.

It had been a while since Owen had seen her smile, despite his best efforts to keep her mind on their promise to have fun and to keep her mind off The Jerk. The latest attempt landed them at a Perkins Diner in just outside of Atlanta, Georgia.

"Do you know what you're getting, Lo?" he asked again, this time taking one hand off his menu and laying it over one of hers.

The skin-to-skin contact caused her to look up and smile, slightly. "I'm just perusing the menu…"

"Stop thinking," Owen warned lightheartedly.

"I have to think, Owen," she chuckled, "there are so many choices…" Rory faltered as she saw him frown.

"About him," he clarified sternly, though it was obvious he hadn't been referring to menu-thinking before. He was aiming at a more critical, time-consuming analytical process that had everything to do with a blond-haired boy with a killer smirk.

Defending herself, her thoughts, with words was no use since Owen was right. Logan had taken up residency in her mind. Rory cast her gaze to the table, where she saw Owen's hand covering hers. His thumb was brushing the back of her hand ever so lightly. A weak smile played at her lips as she looked up, taking in the restaurant scene. Even though it was a generic chain, it still breathed small-town, mom-and-pop-shop atmosphere, which she loved.

Owen couldn't have known that small-town diners were her favorite, all he cared about was getting her food and coffee, but still…it was nice. He was nice.

"It'll all work out, babes," he told her, his voice sounding warm and sincere to her ears. She turned, locking her eyes to his, and nodded.

"My name's Maureen and I'll be your server today." The graying, plump waitress shot them a bright smile, effectively breaking the tension between Owen and Rory. "Can I start you off with some coffee, darling?"

"Sure thing, Maureen." Owen held out his cup for her to fill. Rory's jealous eyes watched as the brown liquid settled in Owen's mug and he shot her a quick smile.

"You are a pro, Mo," he laughed, "how long have you been doing this gig?"

The waitress turned to fill Rory's mug. "Oh my child, long enough to not tell a cutie like you!" she said, before throwing her head back in laughter.

Owen joined in and Rory snuck a sip or two of her coffee as Owen continued to chat up the waitress for another moment. Just as Rory downed the last sip with a satisfied sigh, Owen cocked his head slightly, causing Maureen to look at the table and Rory's empty cup.

"You want some more, sugar?" she asked, though she had already starting pouring. "I'll be back in a minute or two to take your order." Owen nodded again, dismissing her.

"Thanks," Rory said, emptying a sugar into her coffee. "I hate it when they leave before I get a refill. You never know if they'll make it back…"

"I know," Owen nodded, "So, what are you getting?"

"Couple of eggs, couple of pancakes…"

"And?" he asked, raising his coffee mug to his lips.

"That's it." She added a short nod to the end, underlining her breakfast decision.

He set his drink back down. "Please! What about bacon, or sausage or ham? Toast? Waffles? Bagels? Danishes?"

"I'm not that hungry…"

He shot her an unconvinced look and she turned her head away from him, slightly embarrassed that he knew her so well.

"Admin-Laura always gives me a hard time when I hand in my food receipts," Rory admitted, "so I'm trying to avoid Laura's wrath…"

"Huh." He rested his hand on the back of his neck and leaned back slightly, a bright smile spreading on his face.

"Admin-Laura never gives me a hard time," he boasted, running his hand over his chest, "wonder why that is….?"

Rory laughed at his cockiness. Both knew damn well Laura would let Owen expense anything, as long as she got a date in return.

"You sweet things ready to order?" Maureen's warm Southern voice hit them.

"Sure are, Maureen," Owen jut out his chin, indicating Rory to order first.

"I'll do two scrambled eggs and a pancakes…"

"And for you, cutie?"

"Yes, I'll have a ham-and-cheese omelet, two pieces of toast, a side of bacon, a couple of sausage links, or patties, whichever, I don't care, but I do care about the Canadian bacon, which is ham, so I'll take that. Oh, and a cinnamon roll, with a little extra icing, and is there anything else you recommend?"

"Well, the peach waffles are to die for, but…"

"Excellent. I'll try those, too!"

"Okay, sugar..." She hastily scribbled down the order. "So for you, darling, I've got some scramble and pancakes and for you, cutie, a ham-and-cheese omelet, two pieces of toast, a side of bacon, a couple of sausages, ham, a cinnamon roll, extra icing and our world-famous peach waffles."

"Be careful, now, throwing around impressive terms like world-famous. I might ask for proof!"

"Wait 'till you taste," Maureen joked back and continued chuckling. "Oh, if only I was younger…"

Owen made his eyes go wide and stuck out his bottom lip, adding a dramatic touch, "I know."

"Oh honey," she laughed, topping off Rory's coffee once more, "you've got a keeper!"

Rory gave the waitress a slightly uncomfortable smile. Maureen was oblivious – of course it was just Rory's luck that she and Owen appeared to be the perfect-destined-to-be-together couple to the outside world, but it was a stark contrast with reality.

She watched as Maureen put in their order, before turning to Owen. "You ordered a lot of food." Rory was trying to be business-like, though she couldn't stop the flirtatious undertones.

"That I did."

"Any particular reason?"

"Hungry, babes, a man's got to eat…."

"I see," she nodded, feigning sadness as she dropped her head .

"I thought we could share," he told her and reached for her hand.

"Really?" Her eyes flew to his and she dazzled him with a smile.

"Except the waffles," he said playfully, "those are a gift from my sugar-momma."

The wave of laughter hit her unexpectedly as genuine laughter typically does. She slammed her half-full cup of coffee on the table and let go of his hand to wipe away a few tears of laughter that escaped from her eyes.

She didn't care that Owen was looking at her with a crooked smile, as if she had just gone crazy; it was funny! Georgia, peaches, Perkins, a sixty-year old waitress hitting on Owen, Owen's goofy expression, and she just imaged Laura's face as Owen handed in his fifty dollar breakfast receipt ….

Rory took in a few deep breaths of air and ran a hand through her hair, before she felt confident enough she could look at him without cracking up.

"Just having fun, Owen," she told him, raising her mug.

He flashed her a pleased smile and clinked his mug to hers.

* * *

"So, what do you want to do the rest of the afternoon?" Owen asked, looping his arm around her waist, as the pair walked the block or so back to the hotel. "And if you say work…."

Rory looked up, smiling. "Actually, I'll do whatever you want to do…"

His eyebrows shot up suggestively and she immediately swatted his chest playfully.

"Dirty! I meant as a thank-you for getting every breakfast item on the menu and letting me eat the peach waffles."

"Two things," Owen laughed, holding up two fingers to illustrate. "One. Everything you said could still be with innuendo. I don't know how, but it's in your tone and in your eyes."

Rory rolled her eyes.

"And two, I risked my life so you could eat the waffles. Maureen would have gone threw the roof if she saw you eating them…"

"So, what are you saying?"

"That I'm damn-well entitled to a thank-you," he winked, before stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to steal a kiss.

Knowing Owen's penchant for spur-of-the-moment displays of intimacy, Rory broke off the kiss and started walking in a pace that came dangerously close to running, praying that the elevator would be empty when they reached the hotel.

"Hold up, girl!" he called, "I can't go that fast. I had a big breakfast…"

She looked over her shoulder and stopped immediately as she realized he was practically doubled over in pain.

"Owen, are you okay?"

A loud laugh escaped him, as his pain magically disappeared. He grabbed her hand and he set off in a running pace.

Rory attempted to reprimand him about being the boy who cried wolf, but he simply laughed off her concerns and her thoughts returned to the possibility of an empty elevator and she picked up the pace.

Luckily, the elevator had been empty, leaving Owen and Rory to take advantage of it. They had entered looking like the perfect-brunch-going couple. Her in a white sundress and him in khaki's and a burgundy polo; however, they emerged looking slightly less put-together.

Owen had picked Rory up and she decided that she didn't want to let go, so she flung both of her legs around his waist. In the elevator, he'd rested her against the banister and kissed her senseless, though this new position proved to be difficult when it came to walking. Laughing, kissing and almost-falling, the couple made their way down the hall.

Rory fished the keycard from Owen's rear-pocket and opened the door.

She navigated them through the narrow hotel room hallway, though the short trek was enough for Owen to loose his balance. The couple hit the bed with a thud.

"You are crazy, babes!" he laughed, making sure he kept a tight hold on her.

"You created a monster," she quipped right back and ruffled his hair. Their eyes locked for a heated moment and the advantages of her new position registered with her.

She was straddling him; he was looking up at her expectantly, eyes glazing over in lust.

Rory knew what was on his mind. The mood changed from pleasantly teasing, to a more passionate setting.

"Hey you," she said, a seductive smile capturing her face.

"Hey, you yourself," he replied, resting his head back on the bed, content with her taking control. Rory started by pressing a kiss on his forehead, tip of his nose and chin, before softly running her fingers down to the hem of his shirt,

She looked up for a split-second and her gaze caught the window – the pool and hot-tub were empty.

The old Rory Gilmore would never consider that in a pool, but now, with Owen, she was a new girl and she just wanted to have fun.

Her mind was made up and she slid off Owen.

"Babes, where you going?" he called out. His voice still carried his trademark friendly twang, though it was obvious he was becoming frustrated.

"The pool and the hot tub are empty!" she shrugged casually, pulling out a bikini from the bottom of her suitcase and disappearing into the bathroom.

Owen smacked his lips together a few times, before the smile that was tugging at his lips won out. "I see."

A minute later, Owen, clad in his swim trunks was banging on the bathroom door.

"It's not a fashion show, Lola. No one is there," he glanced over his shoulder, making sure there was still truth in that statement. The pool was a very popular area.

"I'm going to start singing," he laughed with another knock on the door.

She laughed but didn't say anything to stop him, so he inhaled deeply and burst into song.

"She was afraid to come out of the locker. She was as nervous as she could be. She was afraid to come out of the locker. She was afraid that somebody would see….two, three, four tell the people what she wore…"

He took in another breath of air, gearing up for the chorus as the door opened.

"It was an itsy, bitsy, teenie, weenie, navy polka-dot bikini!"

It was true and Owen burst out laughing, "Come here." He pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head. "The words go yellow polka-dot bikini, babes."

"Same dif," Rory shrugged with a coy smile, before leaning in and nipping his bottom lip.

He kissed back, and their bodies turned once more. The silvery sparkle of her laptop caught Rory's eye.

Logan.

"Babes?" Owen asked as he felt her whole body tense up.

"Mm?" She tried to push Logan's image away by kissing Owen again, but the moment had passed and he was smart enough to know what – who – caused it.

"Stop it, girlie, don't do it," he tried to coax her back but she wasn't strong enough to fight the images in her mind.

It infuriated him; the thought of The Jerk was enough to make him, a real human being, standing right in front of her, non-existent.

"I…" she started her apology but he stopped her.

"Stay up here with your laptop, or come to the pool with _me_!" He laid out her options for her and lightened the tense mood by offering her his hand, hoping that she'd take it.

A nibble of the bottom lip and a sideways, guilt-ridden glance had him headed for the door.

"I'll be down in a second, Owen," she called as he stood in the doorway. "I promise."

He nodded curtly, granting her a weak smile before letting the door slam behind him.

Rory stared at the closed door and wondered briefly what affect this had on her relationship with Owen. This was the closest to mad she had ever seen him, but he said he understood. Before he knew about Logan, it was easier to forget, easier to push the boy in her mind away. The alcohol that typically contributed to Rory and Owen's rendezvous' also did its fair share of keeping the guilt at bay. And now that she had opened up to Owen, combined with Logan's e-mailing – it was just too much to handle.

She heaved a heavy sigh. Owen would come round; he always did.

"Damn you," Rory muttered to her laptop and sat on the edge of the bed as she waited for it to boot up.

Her gaze inadvertently trailed to the open window, to the pool bar, where she saw Owen order a beer and chat up a short-haired brunette.

"Whatever," she mumbled to the empty room, settling back on the computer screen. She hesitated again, hovering the cursor on her e-mail icon for a second, before squeezing her eyes shut, clicking, and hoping that when she reopened them she'd be greeted by a new message from him.

* * *

**To**: Rory Gilmore

**From**: Logan Huntzbergr

**Subject**: RE: Bad, Bad Coffee

_This most certainly finds me in a place with better coffee. San Francisco is full of quirky little coffee places and I moved Irwin – the coffee maker – cross-country and as I'm sure you can remember; he makes an excellent brew. Despite the lousy coffee and being in Florida (I don't know how you can stand being that close to Mickey Mouse!), congratulations on landing the job!_

_And this isn't working…._

_Look, Rory. I'm not the exchanging pleasantries type of guy. I can't write you and pretend we don't share a past, okay? And I know you are probably pouting behind your laptop wondering why I even replied in the first place – and it took me three days to realize this – but you are still on my mind 'from time to time', too._

_So, I was thinking that maybe we should try to be friends. Obviously we are already acquainted so friends seems like a good step, don't you think? I know a lot of stuff has happened, and I know there is every possibility you've moved on, and/or never want to think of me again so I'm taking a real chance here, Rory, but I'd really like to try to be your friend. Pen-pals. It would make me happy and perhaps then I'll be able to give a better answer to your question._

_So, what do you say…. Friends?_

* * *

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Huntzberger

**Subject: **Friends

_Friends? Yes. Friends. That would be good, I think. And seeing that you are now my friend, I should tell you that the trail moved to Georgia. The hotel coffee still sucks (I'm hoping it'll get better if we move north, but we might be heading west...) but they have the best iced-tea I've had in my life. And waffles. See if your local Perkins serves peach waffles, you'll want to order two._

_Okay. Back to work._

* * *

It was fidgety and jumpy and it probably showed him just how anxious she was for his reply and that she was desperate for contact with him, but she really didn't care because she truly was nervous about his e-mail.

The fact that he replied in the first place was enough to bring a smile to her face, but the fact that he wanted to try to be friends sent her soaring. So, Logan got a very genuine reply. Of course, Owen would probably be upset since she wasn't following his rule of keeping the ball in her court, but really….

Owen.

Damn it.

She snapped her laptop shut, slid into her flip-flops and rushed her itsy-bitsy bikini-clad self down the stairs.

* * *

"Strawberry Daiquiri ," Rory ordered as she hopped on the pool bar-stool next to Owen. Normally, he'd put hers on his tab, but not this afternoon. He didn't so much as glance her way.

The short-haired brunette left, but a strawberry blonde was in her place. Owen wasn't giving her much attention. Still, Rory couldn't help but narrow her eyes to slits and scare the girl away.

This was odd. She was used to pulling the possessive girlfriend card with Logan from time to time, when particularly abrasive females threw their slutty selves at Logan, but never had it crossed her mind to pull the same treatment with one of Owen's string of admirers. She wasn't even allowed; they had rules!

"Interesting," Owen said to his beer.

"What's that?" Rory asked, sipping from her cocktail.

"That you scared Sasha away…"

"You mean Tara?"

Owen turned, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

"She had a name-tag," Rory clarified quickly. She reached out and rested her hand on his arm. He looked down, with a faint disapproval tracing his features, but he didn't go so far as to swat her hand away.

"I take it your boy replied…"

"How did you…?" she started off, but quickly changed paths. "He's not my boy, you know…"

"You have this glow. Bright-eyes, bushy-tailed…" He snorted, "like you had a fucking plate of peach waffles."

Rory swallowed. Owen was her friend first, benefits second and never boyfriend. She didn't allow herself to analyze his sentence since it could redefine their relationship and in no way was she ready for that.

"He did write back," she said, carefully sipping at her drink. "He wants to be friends."

"Really, friends? That's sweet," Owen shot her a wry smile. "What did you say to that?"

"I said that would be okay…" Rory trailed off; not wanting to confide too much. "Hey, you are okay with this right?"

"With what?"

"Uh," she smiled a little uncomfortably. He definitely wasn't making this easy for her. "For lack of a better term, us…"

"Please, Lo, there is no us. Friends first, benefits second, never boyfriend and girlfriend, remember?"

She nodded, "I do."

"I do, too," he shot her a firm look.

"So we are good, right? You aren't mad and you are still my friend?" Rory widened her eyes and shot him a hopeful smile. That smile slayed Owen. He couldn't say no and she knew that.

He sighed heavily, giving in. "I am your friend."

Taking a page from his book, Rory dramatically put her hand to her forehead as if she were fainting. "Thank-god. I don't know what I'd do without you!"

Owen shook his head. Why couldn't he stay mad at this girl? "I have created a monster," he chuckled, the friendly ease returning to his tone, "come here, you."

She leaned in to his embrace and smiled into his kiss. Their non-relationship had survived its first fight and to celebrate Owen ordered another beer.

"Put everything the lady's on my tab," he told the bartender.

Rory smiled at him, her hand still protectively draped over his arm. Owen was still her friend and now Logan was, too. A girl could never have too many friends.

* * *

**I know. Please vent in the reviews or PM me. This will probably be the last chapter written in this format. I want to do a (few) chapter(s) with just Logan-Rory e-mails (let me know if you want any topics discussed, or if something from the passed should be brought up or whatever....) and after the e-mail chapter I'll introduce some more characters – you know Finn always wiggles his way into my stories…. I'm thinking NYNII is up next for an update, but we'll see! Thanks and love always!!! **


	6. Friends II: The Email Sessions

**So. Tiny baby confession. Some of this was stolen from my one-shot 'Anything Other Then Yes is No', but since I wrote it, it's fine. I really like the emotion in that story and it sort of fits into the emotion I started writing MWF with, before Owen and Denise got all involved.... **

**This chapter covers a series of emails. No background details. No thoughts. Just emails, which is a lot of out my comfort zone. I probably won't do it again. I like details. A lot. Almost just as much as I like reviews. **

**Still, I didn't want to rewrite it, because it adds a little more mystery this way. I don't.. let ****me know how I did! **

**PS: Imagine that there about two-three days in between each e-mail. **

* * *

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore

**Subject: **Friends

Friends? Yes. Friends. That would be good, I think. And seeing that you are now my friend, I should tell you that the trail moved to Georgia. The hotel coffee still sucks (I'm hoping it'll get better if we move north, but we might be heading west...) but they have the best iced-tea I've had in my life. And waffles. See if your local Perkins serves peach waffles, you'll want to order two.

Okay. Back to work.

----------------------------------------------

**To: **Rory Gilmore

**From: **Logan Huntzberger

**Subject: **RE: Friends

Perkins?! Seriously, Perkins?

From the girl who once declared never to set foot in a chain diner establishment, especially since the coffee and pancakes couldn't compare to Luke's?

Too late, don't try to talk your way out of it – I've got it in writing and I'm saving this e-mail, just in case. Still, good to know you've been broadening your horizons, ha!

And, since we are friends now, I suppose I should tell you that I spent a good deal of this morning catching up on your blogs and articles on Politico.

I'm impressed.

PS: doesn't hotel coffee always suck?

**----------------------------------------------**

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore

**Subject: **Perkins

Oh! Let me refresh your memory on how that little declaration came about.

Once upon a time…

Finn dragged us to the Pub and told us to drink and be merry. Which we did and I was certainly very merry until Finn decided that pancakes and coffee would be the perfect post-party food. Coffee, yes, but Steph, Rosemary and I really wanted tacos, which lead to the Great Diner Declaration of 2006 in which we stated that chain diners suck, and that the only diner worth going was Luke's. I believe there was a little three women wave in the name of tacos, but I can't be sure.

But, I was drunk and so my declaration isn't really legal. Tom Cruise would take you down in a court of law.

Sorry you had to find out like this.

And for the record, this is not me talking my way out of it, it's the truth! (If you can handle it.)

However, the coffee and food at Perkin's wasn't anywhere near Luke's standards. Except for those peach waffles. Did you try them yet?

You read my articles? Wow. That's really nice and you didn't have to do that. Thank-you, I guess, for reading them all, especially since the first handful are definitely cringe-worthy.

So, how is the world of the internets and the investments? I'm pretty sure Grandma would have told me if you went back to work for Mitchum, so I'm assuming that's what your up to.

PS: I do believe hotels are consistent in serving exceptionally bad coffee. We are in South-Carolina now and you wouldn't believe how nasty this stuff is!

----------------------------------------------

**To: **Rory Gilmore

**From: **Logan Huntzberger

**Subject: **The Great Diner Declaration of '06

Ah, yes. The Great Diner Declaration of 2006….I vaguely recollect going to Taco Bell with a pouty Finn and ordering everything off the menu. In twofold.

Sadly, Perkins hasn't set up shop in California yet, so I'll take your word that the peach waffles are the best.

The world of internets and investments is…internetty and investmenty. Mostly investmenty. I don't want to bore you, but I basically buy up companies, break them up and sell them for profit. It's been going pretty well so far, brokered a couple of good deals, met a few interesting folks. Of course Dad can't wait for it to go belly up, but I don't think it will. It's good.

I didn't realize Emily was relaying all the society gossip to you. People talk…relentlessly. I'm sorry – that must be awkward.

PS: If you stayed in a place longer than two days, I'd send you Irwin and some real coffee. Or a Starbucks gift card or something.

----------------------------------------------

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore

**Subject: **RE: The Great Diner Declaration of '06

What a sad and empty life you must lead without a Perkins. Where do you eat?

Good to see you putting your Yale education to use, Edward Lewis. Seriously, though I'm glad to hear the California kind of life agrees with you and that your business is doing well.

Give Mitchum some time. Maybe once he sees that you are truly serious about your venture, he'll give you a chance. Who knows? Some day pigs will fly.

I know people talk. Being on a tour bus in the middle of Tennessee certainly helps, but it's still awkward. Apparently, we were the Golden Couple and the GC-split has gotten more mileage than Britney's comeback and Tom Cruise's couch-jumping combined. Safe to say, it'll be a little while before it calms down.

Grandma is and will always be Grandma. She was devastated when she found out. I'm pretty sure she had china patterns and wedding invitations picked out, so maybe it was for the best…

PS: It's Tennessee today, Arkansas tomorrow and Oklahoma the next day. My mail is forwarded to my mom's house, but sending an Irwin there won't help me much (and you'd probably be on the receiving end of mom-card phone call). It would have been great, though. Real Coffee. Consolation prize: my phone number. I changed it a while back, and friends should have each other's number, right? 234 867 5300 is mine.

----------------------------------------------

**To: **Rory Gilmore

**From: **Logan Huntzberger

**Subject: **Are you kidding me?

So you give me your phone number but tell me us breaking up was for the best? And that Lorelai is mad at me? She gave me her blessing! What's up with that?

----------------------------------------------

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore

**Subject: **Yes!

It was a joke, Logan. Obviously it's too soon to joke about what we were… but aren't we friends? Don't friends joke? And if not, talk about stuff?

I like talking to you, I miss talking to you, but I can't go on ignoring the past. And I know you are all about looking forward – "you slow down, you die" – but can you really look forward without letting go?

Of course Mom is mad at you! How could you think she isn't?

**----------------------------------------------**

**To: **Rory Gilmore

**From: **Logan Huntzberger

**Subject:** Ah, the word you didn't say!

What do you want to talk about, Rory? What do you want to say? That you miss me, miss talking to me.

That's fucking fantastic.

How 'bout we talk about you rejected the proposal; how you rejected me?

And don't say you really believed that long distance was the answer, because it wasn't. You were the one that suggested all or nothing way before there was an us! If you seriously saw us getting married in the future, you would have accepted and suggested a prolonged engagement.

I never said I wanted to get married the next day.

And you had to know you were crushing every dream I had of our life together. You said you were sorry. You didn't even come out and say no.

I'm living in a one bedroom apartment, you know.

I sold the house with the avocado tree.

----------------------------------------------

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore

**Subject: **Mature, butt-faced miscreant.

Damn it, Logan. It's three in the morning and I'm crying into a cold cup of coffee in my hotel room.

What the hell do you want me to say?

I am sorry. Okay, I'm sorry! I never imagined we would stop being us. Of course I imagined our future together, before you proposed I thought we'd be together forever and then when you did, I was caught off-guard.

I just graduated. Everything was changing. I didn't have a job; you wanted to move to San Francisco. What was I going to do in SF, drink coffee and be your plus-one? That's not me, Logan. That was never me. And you worked for it, San Fran is your dream, the house and the avocado tree was your dream. And, as much as I like guacamole, it wasn't mine.

And don't say I would have gotten a job at a paper there. You don't know that. The Times turned me down. The Chicago Sun-Times turned me down. The Post. Time Magazine. The New Yorker. Pro-Jo wouldn't even give me a clerical position!

Maybe it would've been different if I had a job. But you have to understand where I was coming from. I've always had a plan. And then all of the sudden everything was uncertain and instead of being the stable factor, you decided to join in the fun by proposing.

Truth is, Logan, you never fit into the plan. Rich, society boys weren't my type. Small-town, floppy hair. Broody writer type. And you were never floppy haired or broody. You were a little mysterious, a little dangerous and a lot exciting.

I was your first real girlfriend. You were my first grown-up relationship. Paris said I tamed you....

God, Logan. Boyfriend, husband! To you, it might not be a big deal, we were living together after all. And, really all the ring and a party did was make it legal, but you, YOU, would be standing up in front of all our family and friends declaring your devotion to me. Me!

That's a big deal. The biggest deal. Too big of a deal.

And I'm sorry I said sorry. I should have said no – but you shouldn't have walked away. You didn't even look back, Logan.

I know I broke your heart.

Just know that you broke mine, too.

----------------------------------------------

**To: **Rory Gilmore

**From: **Logan Huntzberger

**Subject: **?

Shit, Rory. How am I supposed to respond to that?

**----------------------------------------------**

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore

**Subject: **?!

If you don't want to – don't.

----------------------------------------------

**To: **Rory Gilmore

**From: **Logan Huntzberger

**Subject: **Sorry

But I want to.

You, Rory Gilmore, scare me, because I need you. Those first months without in SF were awful. You weren't there; I was alone. And I thought about you, I replayed the situation over-and-over in my mind.

I convinced myself that you hurt me more. I was the victim; you didn't love me, that you walked away unaffected, I'm beginning to understand that you didn't.

I understand that staying with me was an easy, trusted, comfortable choice. But you wanted your options, wanted to see if there was more out there.

People can live a hundred years without really living for a minute.

I feel strangely proud of you for doing that, even though both our hearts were broken in the process. I think we can say that we both contributed our fair share to this mess – we fucked up.

I'm sorry,

Logan.

----------------------------------------------

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore

**Subject: **RE: Sorry

I'm sorry, too. I feel like a broken record, but hearing how difficult your first few months were, kills me. I just want you to be happy, regardless if I fit into that picture. I don't know how much more of this apologizing I can take.

Friends again?

Rory

**----------------------------------------------**

**To: **Rory Gilmore

**From: **Logan Huntzberger

**Subject: **What's the weather like?

Yes. I think we've talked about the past enough to sufficiently move forward. For now at least.

Where are you now? How's the coffee?

Logan

----------------------------------------------

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore

**Subject: **Sunny

I am in Nevada. And the coffee is alright. I had a cappuccino the other day and the foam stayed foamy, which is a big, big improvement!

Dad flew out for a day to visit me back when we were in Colorado - he says hi! – and he got me a personal DVD player and my Mom gave him some DVD's to give to me. They are happily divorced, not together.

Mom and Luke are engaged. (Sorry if that's old news for you, I'm not sure how fast Small Town Gossip travels.) Anyway, one of the DVDs is 'Pretty Women'. Funny, since you are in the same line of business as Ed Lewis. Business buying, I mean, not prostitute wooing….At least, I hope so!

I'll send this now, before this crosses into a whole different level of awkwardness.

Rory.

**----------------------------------------------**

**To: **Rory Gilmore

**From: **Logan Huntzberger

**Subject: **RE: Sunny

Pretty women! Edward Lewis! It makes sense to me now, I couldn't figure it out and it was driving me crazy!

Hey, pretty cool your Dad was able to see you! You probably don't get family visits too often, right? I heard his business is doing pretty well. Good. Also good to know that he doesn't want to kick my ass – he has every right, just like your Mom.

I didn't know about your Mom and Luke, but that doesn't surprise me. Congratulations. Definitely no evil step-father potential there!

It's not awkward to me,

Logan

PS: What's the next stop?

**----------------------------------------------**

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore

**Subject: **Ha-ha

Smooth. Very smooth, indeed.

Yes, California is the next stop. San Diego more specifically. Seven-hours and thirty-eight minutes away from San Francisco.

Is it okay if it's still a little awkward for me?

Rory

**----------------------------------------------**

**To: **Rory Gilmore

**From: **Logan Huntzberger

**Subject:** It wasn't a joke

You say that as if I was asking to meet up!

Friends meet up for coffee, Rory. It's an unwritten rule, like going to the movies and talking on the phone…

Honestly, I don't think sharing a cup of coffee would have been a bad thing. But I can't. There will be a whole lot more than 7 hours between us. I'm at the airport right now waiting for my flight to NYC. Some fancy internetty and investmenty meeting.

Yes,

Logan.

PS: I still owe you my phone number: 345 657 2100

PPS: Grab an In-and-Out Burger while you're in Cali. Not anything as magical as a peach waffle, but pretty good.

PPPS: Not as good as Luke's. Don't worry.

* * *

**And this is where I end the emails. Funny, flirty and drama-y. I hope it doesn't feel rushed, but if it does don't worry. I'm not done with this yet. And, in case you liked the fluffy ending....Owen and Denise are still around. **

**Much Love! **


	7. Friends with Dates I

**It's just creeping past midnight here, but I still say this counts as 2 updates in one day. What? I don't know how it happened, but here it is. Maybe because you left me so many lovely reviews last time! Enjoy! **

* * *

"I hope we get a few hours for dinner tonight," Rory said as she rested her head on Owen's shoulder. They had been in the bus since six this morning and she was growing tired.

Owen put his arm around Rory's shoulder. "Don't we always get a few hours for dinner, babes?"

"Yes," she sighed, looking up to meet his gaze, "but we usually end up having burgers and beers at the hotel bar…"

"..and my girl wants something a little more fancy tonight?"

"How does Mexican food sound?" Rory said as a smile formed on her face.

"Well," Owen shrugged, absentmindedly tracing abstract forms on Rory's arm, "I could certainly go for a Crunch Wrap Supreme or a Volcano Taco…"

"I didn't mean Taco Bell!"

"I thought you wanted Mexican food?" Owen raised his eyebrows in mock-surprise. "Don't you quiero Taco Bell? Don't you think outside the bun?"

"Baby, I'm so far out of the bun, I can't even see it!" Rory shot back through a giggle. "We are going to San Diego, we can't eat Taco Bell in San Diego. Casa Di Pico is in San Diego!"

"No…" Owen tried to come between Rory and her ranting, but she wasn't hearing it.

"Yes! Yes it is! You watched "America's Must-Eat Foods" with me on the Travel Channel; we made Terri and Grant take notes for the last press conference in Tennessee so you could get those baby-back ribs…"

"And they were fucking delicious," Owen said as he puffed out and patted his stomach for emphasis. "Best ribs of my young life." He pressed a delicate kiss on Rory's temple. "Thanks for making me watch that show, babes, but Pico is in San Diego…"

"So then what's the problem?"

"We aren't," Owen replied simply.

Rory lifted her head off Owen's shoulder and stared at him in complete confusion. "We're not?"

"No, babes. San Francisco is the next stop on this crazy tour."

"But that can't be," Rory mumbled to herself, before recapping the events of the last few days. "It's Wednesday today so yesterday was Tuesday and we did Nevada on Tuesday, so Wednesday is San Diego and Thursday would be San Francisco…"

"Well, well," Owen laughed, "I never thought I'd live to see the day Rory Gilmore messing up her schedule. Today is San Francisco, girlie and tomorrow is Oregon. They updated the schedule, remember?"

Rory frowned as she stared at Owen's soft gaze. "When?"

"Couple weeks ago," he shrugged and started to nibble softly on her bottom lip as she thought about what was going on two weeks ago. It didn't take long for her to remember Logan and their e-mail fight. "Oh."

"Hey, don't worry 'bout it, babes," Owen said as his arm found its way back to resting comfortably around her shoulder. "I'm here for you, questions about the schedule, just ask. I've got your back."

Rory didn't look up this time, but he knew a crooked smirk graced her face.

"Why don't you use that fancy internet phone your Dad got you to check out the San Fran dining?" Owen suggested. "I'm thinking we should go out tonight."

"Really?" Rory perked up instantly. Before he could nod affirmatively, she had fished her phone out of her pocket. As she googled, Owen continued talking. "Still, it's such a shame we aren't going to San Diego. I wanted to go the that Fisherman's Wharf. Sea lions are my favorites."

"Fisherman's Wharf is in San Francisco…"

"It is?" Owen frowned. "Well, I must have gotten my San's mixed up." He squeezed her closer in their side-ways hug. "Then we should make it a date. Fisherman's Wharf to see the sea lions and then go out to dinner…"

"Seriously?" Rory looked up from her phone.

"Hell yeah, baby sea lions are adorable. I've got to see them!"

She snorted at his childlike enthusiasm. "Babes, you said date."

His smile dropped for a split-second, before returning full-force, along with a brighter twinkle in his eyes. "I say a lot of things," he said, turning his head towards her.

"That you do," she whispered in return as his lips were mere inches away from hers. He waited a beat, shooting her a lazy smile, before closing the gap between them.

"So a date?" Rory asked as she pulled away from their kiss.

"You and me," Owen confirmed. "Sea lions and Mexican food. Wear something fun. I'll pick you up at seven."

"Pick me up?"

"It's a date, Gilmore, get with the program," he scolded playfully, but as he saw the confusion on her features he leaned in. "You are in press group A, I'm in group B. It's on the schedule…" he whispered.

"I knew that," Rory stated weakly as he pulled away. "I did!"

Owen's eyebrows shot up as he gave her a disbelieving once over. "I'll see you at seven."

* * *

The clock was pushing seven and Rory was almost ready. She knew Owen would be at least fifteen minutes late. Partly because he was familiar with the Gilmore rules, partly because he himself always ran more than a few minutes late.

Her afternoon of following Obama around San Francisco was unusual to say the least. It was bizarre to think that if she had followed Logan San Francisco would be 'her' place. The café she stopped at to get a latte might have been her usual place. The minimarket on the corner might have been the equivalent to Doose's back home. The quirky bag boutique is where she might have bought a quirky bag as a birthday or Christmas present for her Mom.

Rory thought walking around town would make her feel really uncomfortable, but truth was she felt as ease. She could imagine the café being her usual haunt, she saw herself buying milk and cereal at the minimarket and she envisioned herself spending hours shopping for cat totes with Logan.

Maybe it was fate's way of giving her a safe chance to check out the life she would never have.

Rory looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her wavy hair was tied together in a playful ponytail and her outfit consisted of a flirty cherry red summer dress, which she topped with a knitted white cardigan and plastic cherry-print flip-flops. She was definitely ready for a fun and flirty date.

She shot herself a wry smile. Yes, it was nice to go out on a date with Owen. It was just too bad Logan was in New York. Somewhere, deep inside, she kind of would have liked to see him. At least, she assumed he was in New York. She hadn't heard from him since their last email exchange. It was a tiny bit strange since she assumed he'd text her as soon as he got in…

A soft tap on her door pushed those thoughts of the boy from her mind. A very different, but equally nice boy stood before her now.

"You look stunning, darling," Owen said in an attempted British accent as he presented Rory with a latte.

"Thank-you," Rory laughed, gratefully taking the Styrofoam cup. "Too bad your Southern drawl affects your British accent."

Owen smiled and returned to his normal voice. "Always a critic."

* * *

After a short stroll through the Wharf, Rory lead Owen the restaurant she had found. "This is it," Rory said as she pointed to a big red building. "Taco Mundo."

"Taco World," Owen said, as he eyed the building suspiciously. "Somehow I think we'd been better off at Taco Bell…."

Rory swatted his chest playfully. "Always a critic! This might be some of the best Mexican food you've had in your young life!"

"Perhaps," Owen said with a shrug as he pointed to the flyer taped to the window. "Look; 2 dollar margaritas!"

"Yum!" Rory clapped her hands excitedly, totally neglecting the point Owen was trying to make. Taco Mundo World with its cheap drinks and greasy food did not seem like a good first date restaurant, but Rory seemed happy so he gracefully placed his hand on the small of her back and lead her inside.

"How many in your party?" the young hostess asked as she pulverized her gum in her mouth. Rory was just about to answer, but Owen replied instead.

"Two."

The sound of Owen's voice must have intrigued the hostess as he eyes flew to see whose face belonged to that shiver-inducing voice. Her eyes fixed on his and she almost choked on her gum.

"Just two?"

"Yes," Owen nodded and cast a glance to her nametag. "Do you happen to have a booth, Genevieve?"

Her eyes shifted from Owen to Rory and then back to Owen. "No."

It was stupid, the girl had to know that she didn't have a shot in hell with Owen and that he was determined not to let anything ruin their date, so withholding the booths were not going to make a difference.

Owen cracked a smile, he knew exactly what was going on. "Well, I see a group finishing up over there, so my date and I will just wait until that table opens up, if that's alright with you, G…"

The girl pursed her lips together as she tried her hardest not to focus on the perky brunette on his arm. "That's fine."

"Excellent." Owen led Rory away from the hostess and to a somewhat secluded corner of the waiting area. "Want a drink? I hear the margaritas are excellent…"

"Really now?" she asked through a teasing smile.

"Maybe not excellent, but it seems to be the drink of choice in this venue…"

"Well, then," Rory raised her hands, "if you can't beat them, join them!"

Owen pressed a quick kiss on her lips. "I'll be right back then!"

Rory folded her arms over her chest, as she watched her guy causally make his way to the bar. The looks the female patrons were giving him didn't go completely unnoticed by her and she shook her head in embarrassment for her gender. He was just a man – a mighty good man – but a man nonetheless.

"Love! Is it you? Love?" A thick Aussie accent cut through her thoughts. She whipped her head around and met a pair of familiar brown eyes.

"Finn!" she called out excitedly. "What are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" he grabbed hold of her hand and twirled her around. "You are looking stunning as always, though."

"Thank-you, Finn! You look…" She stopped mid-sentence to eye up her longtime friend. He was wearing bright blue board shorts and a yellow shirt covered in blue stars. Leather flip flops graced his feat and he had a pair of Raybans on his head. "…you look, you look, like you!" she gushed and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I've missed you too, love," he said tenderly as he stroked her hair. "Finny never was discussed in the settlement! I fully expected to be with you during the week and with him on the weekends. Instead the two of you packed up and left, and I was left with Mr. Stick in the Mud."

"Oh..how is Colin?" Rory asked, hardly hiding the smile that spread on her face and carefully ignoring his other words.

"Fine. Busy with business…" Finn scrunched up his nose in disgust.

"Still the longest four letter word in history for you?" she joked and he laughed. "I'm warming up to it. I'm here scoping out a club."

"Really?"

"Don't sound so surprised, love. I work at night, and my company pays me to spend time with beautiful women, to drink and be merry…"

"Oh, so it's not really work," Rory said with a wink as Finn crossed his arms over his chest. " I don't remember you having this pretty little mean streak, love!"

Rory roared with laughter and embraced Finn once more. She had missed him.

As he waited for their drinks to be made, Owen watched the scene unfold. Rory looking around the room, eyes narrowed to slits, to scare off the other girls. Good. The flirtatious smile she shot him. Better. The loudly dressed man coming up to her. Not good. Him hugging her. Bad. Her hugging him. Worse.

By the time he made it across the room with their drinks, he was all sorts of jealous. "Who's this, Rory?"

"Oh, Owen, hi," Rory said as she quickly released Finn from their embrace. "This is Finn."

"Hello mate," Finn said as he stuck out his hand. Owen waited a beat before shaking Finn's hand. "You are Finn from college?" Owen asked, a little wearily, as the pieces of the puzzle began to come together in his head.

"No, mate, Finn from Australia."

"Really!" Owen said, his trademark easy smile returning to its rightful place. He didn't know much about Finn, but he knew that the guy didn't pose much of a threat. "What's it like Down Under?"

"Come home with me and I'll let you find out…" Finn said, before pausing. "Actually, mate, best not. It's a line I use with the ladies, and it comes automatic to me…I'm sure you understand."

"Does that really work for you, Finn?" Rory asked, laughing and Owen joined before patting Finn on the shoulder.

"No problem, man. Before Rory, I did the same."

"Really?" Finn asked, "Where are you from?"

"Texas."

"So, is everything really bigger in Texas?" Finn asked in a high-pitched voice.

"Exactly," Owen nodded his head in laughter as Rory shot him a dirty look. "Tell me chicks didn't fall for that."

"Love! Girlie!" Finn and Owen exclaimed at the same time. "How could they not?"

"A room full of exotic men and yet the pickings are extremely slim," Rory muttered to herself.

"It worked for you, love," Finn said as he not-so-subtly cocked his head towards Owen.

"No, no, it didn't," Rory was quick to say, as she brushed a lock hair behind her ear.

"So you aren't together?" Finn questioned.

"We are having fun," Rory explained before Owen could say anything to the contrary.

"Gilmores and fun. Stringless fun…"

"Don't look at me like that, Finn," Rory warned playfully.

"I'm looking past you, love, at the ferociously good-looking creature," Finn said, his tone growing absent as he progressed. "Those legs, that dress… shame she's got that black bob." He tore his eyes off the women long enough to address Owen. "I'm partial to the red-headed variety of the fairer sex."

Owen nodded understandingly as he snaked his arm around Rory's waist. "Brunettes."

Rory rolled her eyes playfully at his cheesiness. Before conversation could pick up again, a shrill call interrupted them.

"Finn, is that you?" The Bob made her way over to the group of three, and obnoxiously embraced Finn in a hug.

"It's been eight months and ten days since I've seen you!" she exclaimed.

"Quite a memory you've got there, love," Finn said as he practically pushed the girl off him.

"You don't remember me, do you?" she asked, before running her tongue over her bottom lip. Luckily, she didn't force an uncomfortable moment upon Finn as she began to explain to the group exactly how they met.

"It was in this bar, silly," she laughed, "you were out here for a few months, scoping a club. And it was your last weekend before you had to leave. You were here with an incredibly gorgeous friend…"

"How drunk was I?" Finn asked, before turning to Rory. "I must have been really drunk, considering these margaritas are so cheap…"

"You should be ashamed for not remembering!" she mock-scolded, wagging her perfectly manicured finger. "You introduced me to my boyfriend!"

"Boyfriend?" Finn didn't try to hide his surprise as he openly wondered who would date – and bed – such a horrendous creature. "He's at the bar," the girl practically gushed, before turning and signaling him out. "The blonde!"

Owen, Finn and Rory's gazes followed the direction of the girl's finger straight to smack-dab in the middle of Logan Huntzberger's face.

It took Finn a moment to process what was happening, but Rory didn't need as much time. He was here. With The Bob!! Not on business. She was here with Owen. Not Logan. Not San Diego.

"Fuck," she mumbled under her breath. Owen shot her a confused look and squeezed her tight. Rory turned to him, ready to come up with an excuse to bolt, but it was too late.

"Denise, I got you a Fiji Springs, they didn't have Evian…" His eyes were cast down as he was busy putting his card in his wallet as he handed the bottle to her – if he had been looking up, he would have seen two bewildered faces, next to his gushing girlfriend.

Denise took the bottle, making sure to touch Logan's hand in the process. "Baby, look who I found?" she cooed.

"Who?" he asked, finally stowing his wallet in the back pocket of his khakis and looking up. He met Rory's fierce, piercing blue eyes head on.

His breath caught and he swallowed for air.

Finn shot a quick look at his friend, before looking at Rory and a confused looking Owen. It was obvious that whatever had happened that day at the college courtyard wasn't over yet.

"Mate!" Finn clapped his hands excitedly, "Don't look so blown-out. I told you I'd be in town for a visit!"

"Finn?" Logan forced his head to turn away from Rory and her piercing eyes. "Finn."

"Your oldest, dearest and drunkest friend," he reminded Logan gently, "I didn't realize you'd be in. I thought you didn't get back until tomorrow?"

"Oh, his flight got cancelled," Denise interrupted. Rory noticed that her hand rested on Logan's shoulder. "He wanted to drive to another airport, but I told him to relax. It's not like those investors will run away…"

"Your business degree tell you that, did it, Bobbi?" Rory asked. The bitchiness in her tone surprised her, but she couldn't help it.

"No," Denise said, as if having a degree was a preposterous idea. "I'm Denise. And, uh, I was in marketing, but now I'm a fitness instructor."

Rory's mouth opened to form a perfect O. "A fitness instructor? Like, yoga?" she asked in her valley-girl accent.

"Exactly, and Pilates and aerobics, too!" she nodded excitedly, completely oblivious to Rory's snarky comments. "Do you work-out?"

Owen, Finn and Rory chuckled at Denise's ignorant comment and she quickly turned to Logan. "Gilmore girls don't work out," Logan said.

This little statement caused Owen to stop laughing. For a second time that night, everything aligned as Owen realized who this man was, and this one was definitely threatening.

"You know her, Logan?" Denise demanded.

"Uh, from college," he treaded gently, as he had never told her about Rory and their complicated past before.

Denise exchanged a cautious glance between the pair and Rory's inner-bitch took over. "We dated," she said with a sly smile, "but don't worry, Bobbi, I'm taken." She cast a loving gaze at Owen, who instinctively pulled her closer.

"I thought you two were just having fun," Finn asked as he saw the flicker of pain in Logan's eyes.

"Fun as boyfriend and girlfriend," Rory answered as she locked eyes with Logan. She made sure to stress the labels she had given to her relationship. "You can't be out on the trail for eight months and not meet someone, you know."

"No," Logan muttered under his breath, but Denise was obviously relieved by the answer. "That's so sweet. You two make a sweet couple."

"Why thank-you," Owen spoke up for the first time. His warm tone seemed to edge Denise's smile even further.

"Sir," the hostess interrupted the tense moment. "Your table is ready. But I also have a round table available for five people, as it seems your party has grown considerably…"

"No, that's fine…" Owen started off, but was interrupted by Logan. "We'll take the round table."

Maybe it was his overly confident tone, or maybe it was the fact that the hostess knew Logan carried a black Amex card, but instead of jumping through hoops for Owen, she was listening to Logan now.

A cocky smile grew on his face, as he wrapped his arm around Denise and turned toward the group. "After all, we are old friends randomly running into each other, we should catch up…."

Denise smiled a dumb smile as Owen and Finn shrugged indifferently. Rory's eyes locked to Logan's and she spoke with her best society tone. "That would be lovely."

* * *

**Please vent in reviews! **

**Every possible showdown will happen in the next chapter(s). **


	8. Friends with Dates II

**Thanks so much for reviewing and loving this story so much! **

* * *

Rory was sure that In the movie script of her life, this scene would never make it to the silver screen. Movie executives would axe the terrible clichéd meeting of the ex-fiancé and his new girlfriend and the proposal rejecter plus her casual fling thing immediately.

However, she wasn't in Hollywood, this was real life and real life had brought her to a dumpy Mexican bar in downtown San Francisco. Not to mention, real life had destined this night to be her first date-type thing with Owen.

And, of course, he had to be there to ruin the milestone. The gorgeous guy who broke her heart. With his arm snaked around some black-bobbed bitch with pushed-up boobs and sky high stilettos. It disgusted Rory. She knew that Logan's arm candy was the type of girl that tried hard to make an impression; she knew that as soon as the girl laid her overly made-up eyes on her. Rory glanced down at her cherry print flip-flops. They were cute, if she was fourteen and this was her first date; however, in no way could her flipper-floppers and sundress compete with Denise's heels and deep V.

Even though the sight of her old love with his new love was enough to crush Rory's confidence, she couldn't let it go. She couldn't just walk away from him. Not after the email-sessions and certainly not after the way he looked at her with those passionate eyes of his. Rory could have sworn she saw irritability - or was that pain? - in them as Owen looped his arm around his waist. And so, she said it: lovely.

In no world, and under no circumstances, would sharing a meal with Logan and his bobbed bimbo be considered lovely. Awkward and uncomfortable, yes, but she could not help herself. She needed to have this awkward and uncomfortable Mexican dinner. And so, she smiled a insincere polite smile and queued behind Finn, Logan and Denise for their table.

"You know, we can just find something else, Lo..." Owen whispered in her ear as they followed the rest of their group to the table.

Rory looked up and met his gaze with a tiny smile. For a moment she felt guilty for subjected him to this terrible dinner, but he was her best friend. She was sure he understood. "I know. It's just that I'm starving, babes." She squeezed his hand reassuringly and he nodded. Indeed, Owen would have liked his first date with Rory to not include the ex and his apparent love interest, but he knew better than to withhold his girl of her beloved food.

The group found their seats at the table. Logan was seated directly across Rory, Denise across Owen and Finn sat as a referee between Denise and Rory, dividing the couples. It was quiet as the waitress distributed cocktail napkins and she rambled on about two for one drink specials and new zesty fish tacos.

"Thanks Juliana," Logan flashed a winning smile at the waitress, before directing himself towards Denise. "What do you want to drink, baby?"

Denise let out a weighty sigh as if was a life-or-death kind of decision. "Well," she drew out, "I'll have a glass of white wine. It is cheat week after all." She finished off her order with a forced girlish giggle.

Rory rolled her eyes as Logan squeezed her shoulder – as if he were congratulating her on ordering a glass of wine.

"Finn?" Logan gestured for his friend to order. Finn let his eyes run up and down the waitress before ordering a Corona.

"Rory?" The way Logan said her name made her heart drop a thousand feet. It sounded warm to the outside world, friendly, like old college friends catching up. Only she heard how cold, distant and dead it really was. Hearing Rory from his mouth sounded foreign. It should've been Ace.

"Uh, a margarita please," Rory said distractedly brushed a stray hair from her face. She hovered her left hand above the sticky table top to emphasize her point. "A big one."

Owen squeezed Rory's shoulder in a similar way Logan had done and Rory brushed her hand over his. He ordered, not waiting for Logan to tell him to do so. "I'll do 2-for-1 on the Coronas with my man." Owen cocked his at at Finn, who nodded approvingly, which, in turn earned the Aussie a dissapproving glance from Logan.

The waitress shot him a flirty smile as she jotted down the order. "And you, sir?" Juliana asked, with that same flirty grin, lifting her eyes off Owen and moving on to him.

"I'll do 2-for-1 on the margaritas with her…" Logan jutted out his chin indicating Rory. He smirked as he held his hand above the table, "…also, the big one."

Rory couldn't tell if he was mocking her or if it was some kind of twisted sign. _I'm getting a margarita, too. I love you. _She based that crazy assumption off Denise's surprised look – apparently it was something out of the ordinary for him to order.

"Excellent," the waitress continued. "Appetizers for you all?"

"Actually…" Rory began, since she really was starving. "I'd like some…"

"…nachos." Logan finished for her.

Rory's eyes flew to his for a split second, before she quickly fixed her gaze on something else, though she felt Logan's eyes pierce her as she mumbled. "Yeah. Nachos."

Owen and Finn both exchanged a look between Logan and Rory as Denise went wide-eyed for the second time that night.

It took a second for Logan to pry his eyes off Rory. "We'll do the big plate, Juliana," Logan concluded the order. The waitress simply jotted everything down, unaware of the building tension at the table.

* * *

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Logan's arm found its away around Denise's shoulder, Owen's hand protectively covered Rory's and Finn occupied himself by exchanging glances between the two couples. The tension wasn't unbearable per say- to an outsider it just appeared as a lull in conversation, but Finn knew there was more to it. The Aussie boy cleared his throat, garnering attention from the competing couples.

Well, fancy my luck," he said, "I'm in town for three days and I run in to two of my dearest friends." Finn shot a pointed look at Logan and Rory. "Colin would make this reunion complete..."

"Who is Colin?" Denise asked, turning her head to ask Logan, though to Rory it sounded more like a lawyer interrogating the criminal on trial.

"You haven't heard of Colin?" Rory asked with a raised eyebrow. "I thought you were dating Logan?!"

Owen's lips curled into a small smile, never surprised by the extent of Rory's sudden bitchiness and Logan glanced at him as Rory continued. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to.. I just.. Logan, Finn and Colin were inseparable during college. The things those boys haven gotten themselves into…"

Finn laughed. "Oh, love, you make it sound as if we were the three stooges…"

Rory shrugged her laugh off. "You were! Just better-looking." As she spoke her gaze drifted off to Logan and she instantly regretted making the quip about looks.

"So, who is this Colin guy, baby?" Denise asked, now genuinely intrigued.

"Well," Finn carried on with the conversation, not letting Logan talk. "Colin was the serious one, you know sweater vest, calculator…"

Logan and Rory shared a knowing look as Finn continued.

"I was the pretty, drunk and exotic one and Logan, here, was the fearless leader…" Denise liked the sound of that and absentmindedly starting tracing circles on Logan's forearm with her perfectly manicured index finger. Rory was fixated on that finger. She hated it.

"… but he was also the ladies man," Finn laughed. "The Don Juan of Yale you could say, that is until…" He cocked his head to the side and Rory looked up. Logan didn't dare look at her as Denise processed this information. The finger tracing stopped as Denise's mouth formed to a perfect 'O'.

"Oh. Ooh," she managed, trying, but not succeeding in hiding her shock. "I see."

Logan shot his girlfriend a sloppy smile. "Thanks for painting that picture," he grumbled, irritation growing slightly in his tone. "What Finnegan is trying to say is that the guys and I were…" he couldn't help that Rory's baby blues were like magnets as his gaze travelled again, "… inseparable." Logan quickly whipped his head back to Denise.

"Baby, I'm sure you had your clique during college?" She shot him a coy smile, "Oh, you _know_ I'm a Gamma Alpha Beta. Sisters for life." She gave the table a toothy grin and she made a peace sign.

Logan smiled in reply – he did know that - and Finn simply shook his head. Rory laughed quietly; Gamma Alpha Beta was certainly different from the Life and Death Brigade.

"What about you, man?" Logan asked Owen. It was a neutral question, though it came out sounding like a challenge. "What did you do? Any Kappa Beta Alphas for you?"

Owen's lips curled into an incredulous smirk as he realized that the nickname he had given Logan a long time ago was most definitely fitting. "I went to NYU," he answered casually. Have to disappoint you though...wasn't a frat boy."

Logan was about to hit him with another sharp remark, but Rory's playful snort interrupted him. "Oh baby, tell the truth!'

Owen swatted her hand good-humouredly. "Wasn't done with the story, Lola!"

"Alright, alright, tell them how you weren't accepted into a fraternity since you weren't loyal to any specific one..."

Owen rolled his eyes at her, before leaning back to their table mates. "College is about fun," Owen explained. "I was there to have fun."

"Too much fun," Rory rolled her eyes lightheartedly.

"So, you're not loyal?" Logan cut the banter between the couple, obviously a little put off by this turn of events. "I'm surprised, you've got that all-American Boy, dependable golden retriever thing going on."

Owen raised his eyebrows, unimpressed by Logan's transparent insinuation. For a moment he thought about hitting him with a smart remark, but he contained himself, for Rory's sake. "Only when it counts, man," he said friendly, yet firmly and his hand went from Rory's hand to around her shoulder.

"Well, that's just excellent," Logan replied sarcastically. Rory was about to start an argument with Logan, but Juliana arrived with the tray of libations. A giant margarita was exactly what Rory needed right now...

* * *

"Wow!" Denise gasped surprised at the sight of the big margarita. "That's a big drink, baby."

"Don't worry, Denise, " Finn chuckled, "if there is one thing me mate can handle, it's his liquor."

Rory gulped a big sip from her drink and laughed at Finn's comment. "Remember the London party at the penthouse?"

Finn's scrunched up his face at Rory's comment and she felt Logan's, Denise's and Owens' eyes on her. Rory knew she was way out of line, but she couldn't help it. And being only one sip in, she couldn't blame it on her drink. She just desperately needed to make the girl squirm and make this night even more painful for Denise than it was for herself and, right now, she didn't care how uncomfortable it was for Owen.

Denise frowned slightly as she swirled her glass of white wine around a few times in thought. "Penthouse?" she squeaked.

"Ooh!" Rory flashed Denise a big fake apologetic smile. "We lived together. I'm sorry – I figured Logan would have told you considering you've been going out for…"

"Coming up on eight months," Denise answered politely. "I'm sure the penthouse was really nice, but a one bedroom apartment is cozier."

This caught Rory off-guard. They were living together?

"One bedroom apartment?" Thankfully, it was noisy in the bar, otherwise, Rory was sure, they could have heard her voice crack. Owen noticed how upset this revelation made Rory and he brushed a comforting hand over her arm.

"Wow, wow, wow." Rory managed as she took another giant gulp of her cocktail. "Eight months. That's just excellent!"

"How 'bout you and Owen?" Denise asked with a sly smile. It was obvious the girl was pleased to have put Rory in her place.

Rory leaned in a little closer to Owen, before she answered. "It seems like forever, doesn't it, babes?"

"Yeah," he replied warmly, shooting Rory a slight warning look. He knew where she was going with this. "About the same as you and Logan."

Logan peeled his gaze off Owen and took another sip of his drink, letting the tequila burn on his tongue before swallowing. "Really? That's just really, really great. Don't you think that's great, Finn?"

Four pairs of eyes landed on the Aussie boy and he smiled a sheepish grin. "You know, I'm just really happy for all of you."

It wasn't sincere, but it didn't matter. Juliana walking toward them with a big plate of nachos provided temporary distraction. "Oh, look! Nachos!" Owen called out a little more enthusiastically than necessary.

"Finally," Finn mumbled taking another swig of his beer.

Owen picked up a small plate and began loading it full. "Here, Lo, I know your starving…"

"Thank-you, babes," she said, taking the plate from him. His look was still soft, but she knew he was silently pleading with her to eat something to balance out the effect of consuming half of a giant margarita in under fifteen minutes.

"Wow, you can really eat," Denise remarked as Rory plowed through the cheesy chips on her plate. "I'm jealous! I'd be 300 pounds if I ate like that."

Rory looked up and shot Denise a faint smile. For a moment, she felt sad for the poor girl. Obviously, she was completely oblivious of the looks Logan was shooting her and Rory would bet money that Logan hadn't told her about the email-sessions. More to the point, Denise wasn't very pretty or a good conversationalist. She didn't eat. She drank white wine. It was obvious that she was the odd man out in the shallow world of Rory's tipsy thoughts. And, for reasons unbeknownst to her, Logan saw something in her. He was here with her. He put up with her white-wine drinking and not-eating crap – maybe he loved her. And he kissed her. He touched her. He had sex with her.... _he had sex with her!_

That thought caused her to choke on her nachos. Another big gulp of her margarita helped wash the twisted thought away.

"You okay, there, babes?" Owen asked concerned.

No, she really wasn't okay considering the fact that she just pictured Logan and Denise naked. In bed, on the floor, in the tub…

One more sip before she answered Owen. "I'm fine, I'm good. It's what Denise said made me think of having to giving up eating. I mean, that would be terrible." Rory managed to chuckle.

Finn stifled a laugh and Logan shot Rory a dirty look as Rory turned to Denise. "Tell me, is it terrible? Not eating?"

"I eat," Denise snapped back through a smile, "just healthy foods. You know you can be fat on the inside, too."

Rory had to give the girl credit, she wasn't backing down without a fight. Even so, Rory rolled her eyes and stole another nacho chip from the sizzling plate. Owen squeezed Rory's hand reassuringly. It was a difficult evening for them all and he was trying to navigate it as smoothly as possible, so he turned to neutral ground: Finn.

"So, you grew up in Australia? How was that?"

Logan scoffed at the obvious question and Rory's eyes flew to his. Their eyes locked and they drowned out the rest of the conversation about Finn's childhood Down Under.

His gaze was intense. Logan wasn't letting go and it cut her to her core, but she wasn't about to back down. She wanted to get inside his head, figure out in what twisted world he considered Denise dating material. Better yet, she wanted to rewind to that fateful day in the courtyard. What possessed him to walk the hell away…

Meanwhile, he held her gaze. Her piercing eyes broke him. It killed him to sit here and watch Owen's arm around her shoulder, how he was the guy that got to ask her if she was okay, how they bantered and shared jokes. He called her 'Lola' - since when did she like that? And if anyone was going to call her Lola, it should have been him! Not some yuppity-yup with stupid flat ironed hair. And, where did she get off with those snide remarks about Denise? Who the hell did she think she was? She was the one that said no!

"You know what I don't get?" Logan said suddenly, interrupting Finn's story about a trip to a kangaroo farm.

"What's that?" Rory snapped back immediately. She'd been waiting for this, but he made her wait for the answer as he downed the last sip of his margarita. He slammed the frosty glass down and caught her eyes once again. "I don't get why you are here."

"Me?" Rory scoffed. "Why are you here?!"

Owen and Finn knew that it was a lost cause and that interfering was futile. Whatever was going on between Logan and Rory was going to be battled out in a sticky Mexican bar.

"My flight got cancelled," Logan shrugged deeply to emphasize his helplessness in the situation. "My apartment is ten minutes away from here. I live here; I've got every right to be here!"

"You don't own the damn bar, Logan!"

"There are fifty million other bars in town, Rory, you didn't have to come here."

"Well, I'm here!"

"I see that!"

"What are you trying to say? Weren't you the one that decided to have drinks and catch up like old friends?"

"Well, let's catch up, then," Logan shot back. "What do you want to catch up about? How, apparently you've been with this frat boy jerk for eight months?"

"Hey!" Owen jumped in and was ready to defend himself and Rory, but she silenced him with a death glare. "Owen is not a jerk," Rory pounded her fist on the table. "The only jerk in the room is you. Seriously, Logan - her?" She angrily cocked her head towards Denise.

Four pairs of eyes focused on the girl with the black bob. "What about her?" Logan wanted to know.

"Please," Rory scoffed in disgust. "Malibu Barbie with a black bob? Are you kidding me?"

"Well, Rory…" Logan was going to say that it really wasn't any of her concern, but Rory was quickly becoming undone as her voice started to rise.

"Don't 'well Rory' me," she hurled at Logan.

Finn tried to intervene with a heartfelt, "Love," but she wasn't hearing it.

"Don't "love" me!"

"Oh that's rich," Logan spat as he crossed his arms over his chest. "She doesn't mean it, Finn. This girl, she wants it – love – and then when you give it to her, she turns you away." He shook his head before looking at Owen. "Get out while you still can, frat boy. She's just a cold-hearted b..."

"Mate!" Finn jumped in, before Logan would say something he'd come to regret. "It's a nick name, I didn't mean anything by it!"

But Logan was off on a ramble. "Love, right, Rory? That's what it boils down to." He jabbed his index finger on the table as he spoke. "One of us was willing to give it his all… and one of us ruined it." He shot her a challenging look, as if he was waitin for her to admit that this was all her fault.

Rory's expression hardened as he looked at him. What a terrible, awful thing to say. She bit down on her lip, hard, to stop to tears that threatened to come.

"That's fine, Logan, if that's what you want to believe," she said as she shook her head in disbelief. Then, she pushed her chair backwards and stood up, keeping her gaze on him. "I'm glad we ran into each other like this. I'm glad I got to see the jerky person you've become without me. It would've been a really, really bad coffee date…"

"What?" Denise was shocked for another time that night. "Coffee date, baby?"

Rory's lips twisted into a sad – yet satisfying! – smile. "Add that to the list of things your lovely boyfriend hasn't told you. He emailed me asking if I wanted to meet up with him."

"You _what_?" Now it was Finn's turn to be surprised.

"Oh stop!" Logan shouted as he gesticulated wildly. "We've been e-mailing for months!"

Denise eyes widened with horror. "Months!"

Logan dropped his head and let out a frustrated groan. "Baby…"

"No, Logan.." she just sat there and shook her head in shock after finding out that her dream guy was a big fat liar.

"Mate?" Finn shot a concerned look between Rory, Owen and Logan.

Owen grabbed Rory's hand. "We're going." He fished a fifty dollar bill from his walled and threw it on the table.

Logan looked up as the money hit the table. "Take your money, frat boy. I know you live like the poor on the trail…"

"Your ex-girlfriend write you that?" Denise interjected hotly and Finn was simply too baffled to say anything.

"Ex-fiance," Rory mumbled. She hated herself for adding to Denise's misery that night, but she really, honestly couldn't help it. The horrified look on her face went unnoticed, since Rory kept her eyes firmly on Logan. Owen looked at her and sighed. He had had enough. This was enough. Without saying anything, he lead Rory out of the crowded bar, leaving a seething Denise and a dejected looking Logan behind.

* * *

Rory cried silent tears as she held a firm grip on Owen's hand as he lead them down the block, back to the hotel. He tried whispering comforting words, but to no avail.

"Hey, wait up, mates!"

Finn's voice caused Rory to stop dead in her tracks. "Lola…" Owen urged lightly, but she shook her head. "Finn's fine."

"I don't want you…" Owen heaved a heavy sigh and Rory met his sad eyes.

"…I'm already hurt, babes."

Owen nodded and they shared a few moments of silence as they waited for Finn to catch up to them.

"Love!" he panted slightly out of breath. "I'm flabbergasted. I don't know what to say…" He gestured vaguely between her and Owen. "You and him and you and Logan…and Denise…and…"

"I didn't know there was a Denise," Rory's voice came out sounding hallow. "It's…I'm...We're..." She didn't even know what she was trying to say.

"It was for closure, Finn." Owen stepped in to explain. "The emailing was for closure."

Finn took in a breath of air and released it. "Right." It was clear that Owen's explanation didn't do much to convince Finn.

"Look, man, under a different set of circumstances we would've gotten some drinks with you, but we should be getting back to the hotel," Owen said.

"Right," Finn nodded. "Oregon in the morning."

"Oregon." Rory agreed sadly. Out of California, away from Logan. Away from Denise.

"Can I just.." Finn spread his arms, indicating that he wanted to hug Rory. Owen shot her a small smile and let go of her hand.

"Come here, love."He wrapped Rory in a strong hug and let her frustrated tears stain his shirt for a minute or so. "I've slipped my number in your coat pocket," he whispered in her ear. "Call me any time. And if you want to get away – you know where to find me…"

Finn felt Rory nod on his chest and he squeezed her tightly one last time, before pressing a soft kiss on top of her head. "Thanks, Finn," she nodded sadly and she felt Owen take her hand once again.

Owen and Rory slowly started walking. She knew if she looked back Finn would still be standing there, but he wasn't the man she wanted to see. He wasn't the man she wanted to chase after her.

* * *

**So maybe not that big dramatic smack down some of you were expecting, but it was still pretty dramatic, no? I mean, they left before the real dinner. There were tears and screaming and eye-opening confessions. I know Finn had a minor part in this confrontation, but he'll play a bigger part later. Promise. Next chapter will focus on the Denise-Logan/Owen-Rory aftermath. Hope you guys liked it. Please review! Much love!!**


	9. Friends On the Move

**I'm a terrible person for spoiling you with semi-consistent updates throughout October and then falling off the planet in November. School is insanely busy and, well, there was a "you're special. Like eat the paste special?" moment in my life, which fizzled out as quickly as it started (believe me --for the best -- and not just for the purpose of fanfic writing) but the whole thing sidetracked me and distracted me from writing about the juicy love square that is Messing With Forever (and writing for Love Game and NYNII – the new runt of my stories!) So, for that, I'm tremendously sorry. I don't think updating will get any better in December considering it's my last term of official classes (I'll start writing my thesis in January on tourism web marketing - exciting times) and I'll be in Florida over the holidays (actually – specifically – flying on Christmas. I'm hoping that this enables to see Santa's sleigh!) Rest assured, though that I'm still here; I've got new John Mayer, new Taylor Swift, new Carrie Underwood, The Script and Demi Lovato to tide me over inspirational wise and my handy dandy notebook full of illegible scribbles that I'll decipher into coherent stories one day. **

**For now, I'll leave you with a reminder that Logan and Denise and Owen and Rory and Finn shared an awkward dinner that ended in a terrible fight, with Rory and Owen storming out, a dejected-looking Logan and surprised Denise. **

**I'm combining the Rory/Owen time line with Denise/Logan timeline so hope you don't get confused. We'll pick up with Logan/Denise as Owen/ Rory left the bar. **

**So, here we go: **

**PS: This one is for all who have sent me PM's/extra reviews to update extra super speedy fast and for that I thank you – sometimes they are the highlight of my day. Regardless, thank you to everyone who reads this! You all shine like stars :) ****

* * *

**

Finn's watched as Owen lead Rory out of the bar. He hoped she would cast a final glance at the table and shoot him a reassuring look, but she didn't, so he turned his head and fixed his eyes on a dejected looking Logan, who had taken to tapping the cheap beer coaster on the sticky tabletop.

"Mate."

Logan dropped the coaster and locked eyes with Finn. "What?"

Finn was about to shout that Rory had no business stepping out in the San Franciscan night with Owen; that Logan should chase after her, and set this right, but he didn't get the chance.

"She doesn't want me, Finn," he spat; the anger from the fight still fresh in his tone. "If she wants to be with some fucking frat boy, that's on her. I'm done!"

Finn looked straight past Denise and rested his eyes on Logan. He waited a beat, trying to decide whether it was worth fighting about this in a bar, but he knew Logan was stubborn so it was pointless. Shooting his friend a disappointed look, Finn pushed back his chair and turned to leave.

"Where the hell do you think you're going, man?" Logan called out after him, but Finn didn't reply – he needed to find Rory.

"Well, fuck 'm," Logan muttered to himself as he watched Finn dodge his way through the crowded bar. He flicked the coaster off the table with is pinky and he resumed his absentminded game of spinning the coaster as thoughts of Rory and Owen consumed him.

After a few minutes the image of a pitch black bob and smoky eyes flitted through his mind and he realized that he had company. Carefully, he glanced to the side and examined Denise's features. He gave her credit for being polite company considering she was the only one that hadn't ditched him this evening, but he knew that she too, was lost in thought and noticeably – understandably – angry.

Logan spun the coaster around on last time, before slapping it down flat with his hand. This caught her attention.

"So…" he cleared his throat. She turned to look at him, nodding slowly, as her eyes flew over his face, as if she were looking for signs of infidelity, or if his love had faded. Logan knew Denise well enough to know that she wouldn't see it, even if she tried. The soft smile that tugged at her lips was unsurprising, just as the barely audible suggestion she made.

"Let's just forget about it, okay?"

Logan bowed his head deeply – almost appreciatively - as he threw an arm around her shoulder and squeezed it tightly. He even let out a relieved sigh as she leaned into him a little closer.

Logan knew it was wrong; she was the wrong girl. And that he was dangerously close to winning the biggest jerk award, but he couldn't help it. He did not want to fix it.

The right girl had made him crazy with e-mails, but showed up here with some other guy with piercing blue eyes and perfectly tousled hair and a charming smile and, apparently, her heart. And so, Logan resigned that he was destined to be with the wrong girl. He squeezed Denise's shoulder a little tighter and looked down to meet her gaze.

"Okay."

* * *

It was the morning after the awkward and uncomfortable dinner with the ex and his girlfriend. Rory still had a hard time believing that the black bob was actually his girlfriend.

She could forgive a drunken one-night stand and, if she really put her mind to it, she would probably be able to rationalize him embarking on string-free casual relationships, but in no way could she concede with the full-blown romance he had started with Denise. According to what she gathered last night, Logan and that girl had been together for eight months – that meant he hooked up with her a month after the busted proposal.

Three years together, forgotten in a month for that Evian-water drinking bitch. Rory couldn't believe that Logan had actually sold the house with the avocado tree – their tree – and moved the Bob into his one bedroom. "Cozy" was what she had called it, but it seriously disgusted Rory, probably more than it enraged her. How could he just move on, carry on being Mr. Commitment…?

Last night she had been too upset to do anything but cry gut wrenching, headache inducing, shirt soaking tears and Owen held her tight as he patiently brushed them away, but in the morning light all she left was feeling exhausted and confused. She didn't really have time to dwell on this – the cheap supermarket novel that was her life – she thought as she lied sprawled out on the hotel bed, considering the bus was scheduled to leave in thirty minutes and she had yet to pack, shower or eat breakfast, but at that same time, she really couldn't bring herself to care.

"Morning Lola," Owen said cheerily as he entered the hotel room. "I just popped out to get us some coffee…"

Heaving a deep sigh, Rory used all her reserves to lift her head off the pillow and she took the coffee he held out for her. "Thanks."

"Ain't no thing, girlie," Owen smiled his easy smile as he sat down on the edge of the bed, continuing the conversation. "So, I think we can officially state that you are tired of the drama in your life, right?"

The softest chuckle escaped Rory's lips as she blew into the foam on her cappuccino. "I guess."

"What do you mean, "you guess"?" he asked in a mocked shocked tone. "Or did you find anything particularly pleasing about spending the evening with the ex and his dense, dud of a girlfriend?"

Rory rolled her eyes at Owen's description and was about to jump to Logan's defense, as she was accustomed to but she stopped herself. Why should she? Logan was with his dense, dud of a girlfriend and she had no desire to really ever speak to either again. Rory took another sip of her drink, before turning to face Owen – the great guy that was sitting next to her, being there for her, yet again in her time of need.

He cracked a soft smile, prompting her for her answer. She answered by matching his smile. "Okay. No guessing. No more drama…but you have to admit, babes, that Finn was fun."

Owen threw his head back in laughter as he simultaneously slung his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close for a hug.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long it took him to realize that all wasn't right in his world. A couple of days, maybe a week.

For all Denise's unique character quirks, he had come to understand that he had never truly seen her angry. Forget about how she shouted at him for ordering a cheeseburger instead of a veggie burger, or scolding him for taking 3 a.m. conference calls with Asian investors; it was annoying, but at least he knew she cared enough to shout. This new Denise operated by freezing him out, completely and totally, bordering on neglect.

At first, he didn't realize that showing up at the office with frozen yoghurt, or surprising him with a lacy negligee when it got home was missing. He chalked it up to his own fuzzy state in the aftermath of the night at the bar. Logan tired his hardest to push that girl and boy to the farthest corner of his mind; she wasn't allowed to affect him yet again. Instead, he chose to ignore the entire situation, even though he was failing miserably. Logan chose to ignore that, too.

He noticed that Denise wasn't her usually happy self, but, again, in his disregarding demeanor he attributed it to her typical behavior. Maybe a new diet; PMS, perhaps; hell, maybe she broke a nail?

Suddenly, though, it was as if all the little things she did for him disappeared and he took notice of the lack of girlfriend in his life. It was strange, since a good chunk of the time her quirks annoyed him, but as soon as he realized them missing, he wanted it back. Not just because it was convenient, but because he had come to really like it. He liked Denise – his girlfriend – and it was only then he realized how badly he had fucked up.

Rory had no clue how long they'd be laying like that, flat on the bed, fingers intertwined, her head on his chest. The rhythmic beating of Owen's heart drowned out the thoughts her overactive brain contained, it was quite peaceful, until, out of nowhere, she remembered that there was a world beyond her prefab hotel room.

"Oh my god!" Rory practically shrieked as she shot up.

"What?" Owen responded in an equally panicked tone, "What's wrong?"

Rory ran a hand through her messy hair. "What time is it? The bus; we've got to go…"

Owen smiled at how Rory's cheeks flushed a slight pink and her eyes widened – he knew she was mentally running through all the things that needed to be done before they could leave – as she quickly maneuvered her way around the room.

"Don't just sit there, go pack!" Rory snapped as she grabbed a pile of clothes from the dresser, "I don't want to miss the bus!"

Owen stole a quick glance at his watch, before fixing his gaze on Rory. "Sit your ass down, girlie," he commanded lightheartedly, which caused her to stop dead in her tracks. "What?"

"Right here," he replied, lightly patting the bedspread next to him. She gathered her pile of blouses in her hand and walked to two steps it took to get to the bed, before plopping down. "Okay, I'm sitting. Now spill!"

"There's not really a good way to say this," he started off, "so I'm just going to say it; but.." Owen paused for dramatic effect as he held up his index finger, "I don't want you to freak out about this. We're back on a mission to have fun, remember?"

The blouses fell to the floor as realization set in. "We missed the bus?" Rory asked and as he nodded affirmatively, she stood up again and flailed her arms about. "I can't believe we missed the bus! What about Nebraska? Obama was going to address his plans on the domestic economic policy! That was supposed to be a legendary speech! And what about Washington, we'll never catch up! Why didn't they come get us? Laura is, like, obsessed with you, surely she would've noticed you missing!"

Rory cut her rant short as he heard Owen rumble with laughter. "Don't laugh," she said, hurling a pillow in his direction, "we missed the _bus, _Owen! It's going on our records or something! We might get fired!"

"Please, Lo, calm down," he waved Rory's concerns away. "We're not going to get fired. I told Laura that you and I needed to take some personal time and we'd catch up with them in Idaho or Montana…"

Her brow furrowed and her lips pulled tight – not exactly the reaction Owen had been expecting. Rory lowered her voice to a whisper. "You what?"

"Told Laura you and I needed to take some personal time."

"I'm not deaf – I heard when you said it before," Rory was snippy in her reply. "I just… why would you do that? I don't want everyone knowing my business!"

"No one knows your business," Owen replied lightly, slightly mocking Rory's offensive tone, "It's Laura. For a quick peek of the abs, she'll do anything. And, admit it, babes, you need a little personal time and as I remember correctly I am your fun sponsor and so here we are. We didn't miss the bus – we are…"

"…playing hooky!" Rory interjected hotly, "I can't just leave my job…"

"You aren't leaving – you are on vacation!"

"…just become some guy cheated on me!"

Owen's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he shook his head. "Rory..."

That stung. It stung as she said it because she knew it wasn't true. "He didn't cheat on me, did he?"

"There was nothing to cheat on," he replied simply.

As always, Owen was right. She and Logan hadn't been together, save from a string of random e-mails. Technically, Logan didn't owe her anything. No explanation, free to fuck whomever the hell he wanted. Just like her, more to the point, just like she'd been doing. What's more, Owen was right, she needed a break. She didn't want to have to think about this anymore. Work only provided so much distraction and she deserved a little fun, right?

"It was for closure," Rory said, quietly reminding herself of the agreement she and Owen had made at the start of her e-mailing adventure.

Owen nodded, his lips tugging upwards as she remembered. "And now?" he wanted to know.

Rory sighed deeply, badly wanting the words to be completely true. "It's closed."

* * *

"Baby, that you?" Logan called out as soon as he heard the key in the door.

"Yeah." Her tone was less than enthusiastic; she sounded distant and tired, but she perked up as soon as she made her way into the kitchen. "What's this, Logan?" Denise asked, glancing around the room.

If there was one thing Logan had mastered in his young life, it was romantic gestures. A crisp white table cloth covered the table, which was set intimately for two. Candles lined the side table and the breakfast bar and a vase of deep red roses waited for Denise. The apartment smelled of pasta and fresh bread; he was cooking.

A smile crept over his features as he caught her gaze. "I'm sorry."

Her head turned slightly to meet his and she swallowed. There was no gushing, bright smile or breathy 'ooh, baby', that escaped her to let him know that he did good. Apparently, it was going to take a lot more to redeem himself in her eyes.

"For what?" Denise asked coyly, taking a wine glass from him.

Logan groaned inwardly - a lot, lot more. "The food is almost done," he said, "I thought we'd talk about it during dinner."

Denise nodded slowly as she shifted her focus from her wine glass onto him. "Okay."

* * *

Owen and Rory flowed right back into their old, trusted banter as the didn't rush to pack up their belongings. They were on personal time now, which required a non-rushed approach to life.

"So, did you just want to hang out in San Francisco?" Rory asked scrunching up her nose, "or did you have something planned?"

"Two things," Owen laughed and he held up his index finger, "Planning is a dirty, dirty word and two," he added his middle finger, so he was holding up two fingers, "you're nose is adorable like that, so I might just adjust the plans to stay in San Francisco."

Rory stuck out her tongue. "Mean."

"True!" Owen nodded, before his eye caught the time. "We best get rolling, Lo, don't want to miss our flight."

"Flight?"

"Continental Flight 1646 to Houston departing at 3:15 this afternoon."

"What's in Houston?" Rory wanted to know, intrigued by Owen's choice for a relaxing getaway.

"You mean besides the American Cowboy Museum -- a must-see, according the Houston Tourism Information?"

"Well, you know I love American Cowboys and Museums…" Rory laughed.

"Good," Owen nodded happily in reply. "And, my mom and sisters are in Houston, too– we've got this great big house and the view from our backyard is really breathtaking."

Rory cocked her head to the side, "You're taking me to meet your mother?"

"Oh don't give me that look," Owen wagged his finger at her. "It's not like that. It's not like anything. From what I gather, my mom is a lot like yours and I can't get you to Stars Hallow and back on personal days alone, so we'll make do with the next best thing."

Rory smiled; she couldn't argue with logic like that, and if she were to be completely honest, she was interested in Owen's hometown.

"Well, okay," she mock-relented and carried on packing. "Still, you're taking me to the Cowboy Museum, mister."

* * *

"This looks really nice," Denise commented as she eyed the plate Logan placed in front of her. Even if she was mad, she had to give him credit for the fettuccini Alfredo, spinach salad, cheesy breadsticks and her favorite Zinfandel.

"Well," Logan sighed, his tone laced with apologies, "I figured I had some making up to do..."

"Major," she interjected sharply.

"You haven't seen the dessert yet..." Logan shot back with a flirtatious grin.

"Don't I usually take care of that?" Denise retorted just as easily, but her sweet smile quickly turned into a frown as she realized what they were doing. "Logan, we can't..."

"I know," he nodded solemnly. "Talking."

Denise smacked her lips together in thought. "Yeah. Talking."

The casual vibe left the room as they both stared at their pasta, engulfed in non-flirtatious, heavy silence.

"Why?" Denise cracking voice broke the tension.

Logan's eyes shot up and met her shiny ones head on. "What?"

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" Denise clarified hastily; venomously, pointing her fork at Logan. He should know who the "her" in that question referred to.

"It wasn't important," Logan shrugged in reply, trying to brush off the significance that, that girl had once held in his life, but Denise wasn't buying it. Her turned head and her pursed lips prompted him to rethink his answer.

"I don't know, Denise. I was new in town, I'd just met you. I wanted to leave my old life behind."

"Her - she was your old life," Denise glumly summarized Logan's thoughts.

"The emphasis is on "old", babe."

Denise shoved a piece of bread in her mouth as she obviously thought about Logan's words. The boy feverishly hoped that his explanation would suffice. He hated the drama, the antics - the whole thing. Why couldn't he just go back to being with Denise? Why did it have to be this difficult?

"But if that were true, then why did you invite her to dinner?" she asked cutting through his thoughts in a small voice; suddenly appearing as the insecure girl Logan always suspected her to be.

"They were there - it would've been rude not to..."

"No it wouldn't have," Denise interjected, her tone strengthening again. "She was on a date with that guy, Logan!"

Now it was his turn to shut it as he quickly popped a bite of paste in his mouth. Denise was right - it was obvious that Owen and Rory were on a date, one that he invariably ruined. He couldn't help the lazy smile that appeared on his face at that thought.

"It's not funny, Logan!"

"Oh come on" he shrugged, "it's just a date. He'll get over it and if not - like I should care. The guy's a fucking asshole and she could do better than him."

"Oh my god!" Denise practically shrieked as this latest information hit her hard. "Oh my god! You don't love me!" she accused with a perfectly manicured finger pointing in his direction.

Logan dropped his fork on the plate, in shock. "Denise!"

"No!" she countered, eyes wide, lips pouted. "You don't. Look at you - all foamy at the mouth just thinking about her with him!"

"Denise!" he tried to counter, but even to him it sounded weak.

"Oh my god. Oh my good, good god," she muttered to herself as she stood up.

"Wait!" Logan was desperate - the string on his tightly wound web of half-truths and imagined feelings was quickly unraveling and there was nothing he could to about it as Denise became undone in front of him.

"Why should I, Logan?" she shouted. "How could I have been this stupid? You don't love me! Your eyes sparkled when I mentioned her just now. Sparkled, Logan, like a fucking Christmas tree! I'll never be as good as her will I? I'll never be that perfectly pouty brown haired stick in the mud reporter girl that you want, right?"

Logan clenched his jaw and rubbed his fingers over his temples in an attempt to alleviate the building pressure inside his skull, but it wasn't working. He wanted to yell at Denise for calling Rory a stick in the mud, but at the same time, that would just prove that there was truth in Denise's acquisitions and that was something that he wanted to avoid at all cost. However, she took his silence as conformation enough.

"You know what - screw you!" she hurled at him. "What kind of dirt-bag-scum-sack boy of a man are you for leading me on like this? And lying to me? I thought you were going to propose to me! Propose! What the hell was I thinking? Christmas Light Eyes?!"

She stopped her rant for a minute to grab her keys and she continued as she tried to finger the key to the apartment off her keychain. "It's not fair. For a guy who acts like such a freakin' gentleman all the damn time you are such a jerk..." her voice started to strain and her key was stuck to the ring as she anxiously tried to pry it loose. "...if you cared about me at all, you would've just been honest; you wouldn't have let me believe there was an us..."

"There was an us – _is _an us," Logan stressed, correcting himself and he shot up to reach for her key chain, but she took a step back; she was going to get that key off herself, dammit!

"Stop lying, Logan! If you cared, you wouldn't have kept me as your plaything!"

"I care!"

"Not enough!"

"You are amazing, Denise and I care about you. C'mon, just come, sit back down" he pleaded.

Denise stopped fiddling with the set of keys for a moment to lock eyes with him. A cutthroat silence filled the room as Logan anxiously awaited her next step.

"But do you love me?"

The question, in itself, didn't catch him off-guard, but the way his answer flowed effortlessly from his lips did - even though it was the truth. With his voice barely above a whisper, he crushed all her hopes and dreams of them ever being something they never really were in the first place.

"No." He looked away in shame for a moment, mentally bracing himself for her tirade, but it didn't come.

Instead, she stood there frantically shaking her keys, hoping that, by the grace of God, the house key would magically fall off the chain, freeing her of this desperately awkward situation, but to no avail.

"Let me help," Logan offered, but she couldn't... She couldn't stand to look at him, let alone talk to him or let him help her with anything. As if breaking her heart wasn't enough.

So, Denise did what any respectable woman would do in that situation. She grabbed her purse and accidently on purpose threw her keys across the room - letting them land in the pasta bowl, grabbed her purse, stomped down the hall and turned to face him, keeping her voice cool as ice as she spoke her final words to him.

"Keep 'em, asshole."

* * *

The boy hadn't been lying, his childhood home was nothing short of amazing. The small town outside of Houston had a Southern Stars Hallow feel and – in comparison – Owen's would've been the Twickham House of the neighborhood.

"Mama?" Owen called out as he pushed open the porch screen door. "We're here!"

"Could it really be that I hear my only son's voice filtering through the doorway?" A cheery woman's voice called out, from what Rory assumed to be the kitchen. "Or is it just old age?" the woman wondered out loud as she made her way down the long hall with a tray of iced teas. She stopped just short of Owen and Rory and, while balancing the tray of tea in her one hand, she popped on the glasses that dangled from a hot pink cord around her neck on the bridge of her nose. "My, my, it really is my son in the flesh. You got old – life on the trail got you down? "

"Very funny, mama," Owen chuckled, before taking the tray from his mom and pressing a loving kiss on her cheek. "You look as beautiful as ever."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, boy, not in this house, but apparently it did get you this lovely lady…" She turned to Rory and extended her hand, which she took. Owen's mom was a lot older than Lorelai, but it was clear that she had the same spunk for life as her judging by the cropped sweatpants and rhinestone encrusted tank top the woman was wearing. She had a head of flowing deep brown curls that where haphazardly pinned back. She smiled a warm, sweet smile that was reminiscent of Owen's trademark easy smile. And despite the big house; it definitely was a home.

"Hello, Rory. I'm Audrey, pumpkin. I'm sorry, my son probably thinks that I'm embarrassing, but truth is, the boy's talked both my ears off about you, so I feel like I know you."

"Really?" Rory shot Owen a surprised sideways glance. "Who knew he was such a chatterbox? He's kept his home life mysterious. All I know about are sisters who sent him to school with pink nail polish…"

Audrey let out a loud whooping laugh that filled every square inch of the house. "Well, then, you and I have some catching up to do. Owen, your sister Bernadette needs you to fix her porch light."

"Mom! I just got in."

"It'll only take a minute. I'll keep Rory company, don't you worry." In Audrey's world dismissed, but she caught the worried look Owen shot Rory.

"Oh, son, just go! There's nothing to get nervous about."

Rory cracked a smile at this woman's antics – it was fun, lively, kind of just what she needed. She cocked her head to the side. "Hey, you've got coffee, Audrey?"

"Only 12 cans of it."

"Go ahead, babes," Rory told Owen, "I'll be just fine here."

Owen exchanged a quick glance between the two women and relented. "Fine. But I'll be back in five minutes."

"See you in forty," Audrey chuckled as she slung an arm around Rory, leading her into the kitchen.

* * *

Often in these last eight months or so, he felt lost and alone but never quite lonely because of Denise. Tonight, as he cleared off the dishes and the remaining evidence of a couple, he not only felt lost and alone, but incredibly lonely, too.

His one bedroom apartment felt too big for him alone, he thought, as he fixed himself a drink and headed for the couch. As much as he disliked her being in the apartment at first, it was clear that Denise had left her mark on the place and Logan knew he'd be moving yet again. She was a great girl; not his girl, but a great girl none the less.

One that definitely deserved more that the tiny bit of his heart that he had offered her.

Logan felt absolutely horrible for the way he had treated her. And, selfishly, himself. He had lied to her and to himself. Why he thought her love for him would last, even though he was barely able to return the it was beyond him. He wanted to believe it'd be enough, that she'd make him forget Rory.

One e-mail, one glance from Rory across the room in a busy bar and one touch from some fratboy was enough for everything to come crashing down around him.

It didn't matter. It was enough. Rory had clearly moved on, Denise had clearly moved on and he was sitting here on his couch, the comfortable buzz of alcohol whooshing through his veins, alone and lonely.

An insufferable and sudden tiredness overtook his body. All he wanted was to sleep, fall into a deep, deep sleep and forget about the hurt his life had become.

**

* * *

**

_So. Denise and Logan are kaput – but I think I gave her a nice exit. And Logan is alone and lonely. A different side of Owen has emerged and all is not as happy-go-lucky as it seems in his world. and Finn will probably make his return either next chappie or the one after that. Hope this was worth the wait, and that you enjoyed! Review? _


	10. Friends who Dream

**Thank you SO much for the sweet reviews on the last chapter! Enjoy! **

* * *

The papers dubbed it the wedding of the year. Rory couldn't believe she was invited. Or maybe, she hadn't been, as she couldn't recall the exact details of how she wound up at this beautiful church in downtown Hartford.

Ostentatious white bows lined the pews, overblown bouquets of flowers were everywhere and an excited hum filled the church. It was obvious that this was something to be excited about; it wasn't everyday that the Huntzberger's only son decided to make the trek down the aisle.

Rory was sitting in the back of the church, so she could barely make out Logan, who stood at the alter, waiting for his bride.

"It could have been you," Emily hissed in her ear. "It should have been you, but you had to prove your feminist ideals and turn him down! I blame your mother!"

"Don't blame Mom. He made his choice, Grandma," Rory sighed heavily. "If he loved me he would have come after me."

"For a feminist that's a pretty old-fashioned idea, Rory!"

Rory knew that Emily was right. If she really wanted to fight for Logan, to be with Logan, to see if she still had a shot with him, she would have stayed at the bar and confronted him, but she walked away, just like he had done.

"I hope you're happy with that boy you are sleeping with now…"

"His name is Owen," Rory replied through gritted teeth. "And we are a couple, Grandma."

"As per your agreement?"

Rory didn't get the chance to rebut, to tell her grandmother that at the time, Owen was a safe, reliable, comfortable bet and it didn't matter if they were friends or officially boyfriend and girlfriend. At least he didn't mess with her mind, or her heart, but violin music started to swell cueing members of the wedding party to file down the aisle. Rory counted at least 12 bridesmaids and groomsmen, not to mention a handful of flower girls, page boys and the ring bearer.

Denise entered in a long white dress. _Virgin please! _

Emily's words burned her thoughts – she was right; it should have been her. She loved Logan. It needed to be her. She knew Logan, she knew that Logan would hate poufy white bows and a fifty person wedding party accompanied by screaming headlines. He wanted out of the spotlight, the shade of an avocado tree. But apparently, Rory missed the part where she got to object and bring the wedding to a screeching halt.

Instead, her world refocused and suddenly she was on the first row witnessing sticky sweet vows between Logan and his bobbed-bitch of a bride.

She closed her eyes tightly to avoid the actual kiss and a succession of images buzzed past her. Tears in hotel coffee, neon lights, margaritas and urine mints, teensy weensy polka dot bikinis, perfectly white teeth, flat ironed hair, blazing sun and sticky bus seats, peach waffles and sweet tea, a different set of dazzling blue eyes and it slowly began to dawn on her.

Owen.

She was currently sleeping in his childhood bedroom, in a bed that his mother had turned down for them last night. She cast a lazy eye at the clock; it was well past 9 o'clock and from what she could tell from her view from the bed, it was going to be a gorgeous day today. The house was filled with faint scents of waffles and freshly brewed coffee and Rory figured that Owen – the closeted mama's boy – was downstairs helping out.

Rory allowed herself a few more peaceful moments to analyze her dream, that mercifully, was just a dream. The mere thought of him actually marrying that troll stung, but her dream-self was right: Logan chose Denise and Rory fled the scene. Dream-Emily had a point, too. What did this mean for her and Owen?

This retreat, while nice, was a little more than "just" friends would do for each other, right? Although, Owen probably did not know what he was getting himself into when he proposed his deal to her or maybe he thought he was obliged simply because of their deal seeing as he was polite and gentlemanly.

Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Owen's niceness, but she wouldn't jump to conclusions just yet. After all, he was just a really friendly, easy-going, uncomplicated guy and that's was had caught her eye about him in the first place. That, and of course, those piercing baby blues.

Rory heaved a heavy sigh – having fun was complicated - before rolling out of bed and following the scent of the coffee downstairs.

* * *

"Good morning, pumpkin!" Audrey greeted her warmly and practically shoved a mug of coffee in her hand. "Owen tells me your are absolutely addicted to coffee, so I set extra this morning."

"Thank-you," Rory smiled at the woman and glanced around the big kitchen. The counter was cluttered by jars filled with sugar and flour, an assortment of bowls, cracked eggshells and a mixer. A young woman was busy feeding a toddler in a high-chair. She was pretty. Tall like Owen, with the same mop of curly brown hair. Rory offered a small wave and hoped her face hid her confusion – weren't Owen's sisters grown-up?

"I'm Bethany, Owen's sister, and this is baby Rebecca," the young woman introduced herself.

"Owen fixed your porch last night?"

Bethany chuckled, but shook her head. "Good memory, but Owen fixed Bernie's porch, the youngest Mayfield sister. I'm the oldest and Betty is the middle sister," she explained. "Bernie, Bet and Owen are outside playing with the kids, while mama and I fix breakfast…"

Rory followed Bethany's gaze to the window, where she saw Owen, two similar looking women and a handful of kids playing outside.

"That's a lot of kids," Rory observed wearily. She wasn't big on kids, though she had to admit that baby Rebecca was cute as a button, definitely part of the family genes.

"Yeah, but they are so good together, they have so much fun!" Bethany smiled enthusiastically, before it dropped to a frown. "You aren't from a big family, are you?"

"Just me and my mom, basically," Rory replied, "but I had good friends growing up, so that makes up for a lot…" She trailed off, not really in the mood to rehash the past with a practical stranger. "So, it smells good. What are you making, Audrey and how can I help?"

"Oh pumpkin, you sit and relax," Owen's mom ordered lightly as Bethany topped up Rory's coffee. "Mama's making peach waffles. We hear you are crazy about them…"

Rory frowned slightly, "Owen told you?"

"Oh, I can't believe that boy would take you to a Perkins!" Audrey sounded absolutely horrified. "What am I saying? I can't believe _he _would go to a Perkins. He was raised better than that you know!"

She smiled lightly at Audrey's comment. "Owen sure is a chatterbox!

Bethany shot her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry if we are overwhelming you…it's just that we are so excited…"

Maybe it was the lack of caffeine or something about her new country-home surroundings, but she was having a hard time following. She gave Bethany a blank look. "About?"

"You, silly!"

"It's not everyday Owen brings a girl home!" Audrey boasted, practically bubbling over with joy. This was news to Rory. "Surely I'm not the first?"

Now it was Audrey and Bethany's turn to exchange a quick look. Bethany shrugged, which prompted Audrey to explain. "When I called him on the first day of the tour and asked him if he'd met anyone interested, I had to ask if "Rory" was a boy's name, if you know what I mean…"

"What?" Rory was shocked. For a boy who seemed so close to his family, he sure hid a lot of essential information like his whole friends-with-benefits outlook on romance. Maybe he did it because he wanted to be spared a telling-off by his spirited mom and fierce sisters, but still, did it justify deluding his family into thinking he was gay?

"Well, I can certainly attest that Owen is interested in girls…"

"We know that!" Audrey laughed at Rory's comment. "He had a high school girlfriend and everything, but when he moved away to New York for college and came back with a B.A. instead of an M.R.S – well what's a mother supposed to think?"

Rory forced a smile, wondering in what kind of 1950s idea Audrey was stuck in. Owen wouldn't fall for a girl who was simply interested in being a wife. Hell, the boy himself couldn't stand to be a boyfriend, let alone a husband.

"Well, never mind that." Bethany's cheery voice cut through Rory's thoughts. "You are here now and that's all that matters to us!"

Rory nodded slowly and watched as Bethany and her mother continued with the breakfast preparations. With each stir of the batter, or crack of an egg it was as if the air was being sucked out of the room. For a moment Rory wished that this was part of her weird dream, but she knew that this was reality.

"I'm just going to go out back and check on Owen…"

* * *

"Hey you!" she called out as she made her way across the grassy field.

"How's it going, Lo?" Owen asked, lazy smile on his face, "Mama get you some coffee?"

"Yeah, she did," Rory nodded and held up her mug for him to see.

"Is mama making peach waffles?" The girl was slightly shorter than Owen and her brown hair was trimmed in a short pixie cut, allowing her big blue eyes to sparkle more.

"She is, peach waffles " Rory replied, casting Owen a semi-accusatory look. He smiled innocently in reply and Rory fixed her gaze back to the pixie-sister in front of her. "You must be Betty?"

"Bernie, actually," the woman laughed in reply. "Betty is has yet to be found in this exciting game of hide-and-seek…"

Idle conversation followed, then an introduction to Bernie and Betty's kids and finally breakfast. Rory couldn't concentrate on any of it – she couldn't shake the feeling that Owen stemmed from some kind of Stepford family, what with the odd perfectness that seemed to surround everything and the conveniently cutesy matching names of his sisters.

Rory always considered herself to come from a happy, loving home and community, but her childhood seemed like something out of a TLC documentary compared to Owen's. No one could be this perfect, this homey, this lovey-dovey and have perfect hair and dazzling eyes.

However; she reasoned with herself, Owen did take her here to get away from the hassle and the stress of the trail. Maybe it wasn't a front, maybe they were sincerely like this… but still, she couldn't embrace it. It felt too foreign for her dark and twisty disposition.

"Hey Owen," Rory said suddenly, breaking up the conversation about high school football games and town square dances.

He turned to her and shot her his familiar smile. Reflexively she grinned back, though it was a little odd with his mother and sisters watching. "Yeah?"

"Can we take a walk – I'm curious to see some of these places you're talking about. Plus, I think you owe me a trip to the Cowboy Museum."

"This is so," he nodded in agreement as a soft, breathy chuckle escaped him.

"The Cowboy Museum?" Bernadette asked and Owen turned to answer his sister. "Rory has a thing for cowboys and, luckily, we have the worlds' best cowboy museum."

"It's a joke from the trail," Rory said, to ease some of the confusion etched on Bernie's face and Audrey laughed. "Go on, then, you two get out of here. The girls and I will take care of the breakfast dishes!"

* * *

"What's going on, Owen?" Rory asked after they had been walking through town for about twenty minutes or so. Sure, the monkey bars Owen fell off and broke his arm in two places was interesting, but it wasn't what she was interested in.

He squeezed her shoulder, which forced her to turn and look at him as he asked his question. "What do you mean?"

"Here," Rory clarified.

"Well, this here is the corner of First and Main and they are repaving…" Owen responded in his easy manner, but it was frustrating. Why did he have to play coy now?

Rory frowned at him. "I can see that, I mean between us." She stressed that last part, but it didn't seem to matter as he replied in his teasing way.

"You and I are in a small town on the outskirts of Houston, walking around, checking out some of my childhood reference points."

"Owen!" Rory let out an exasperated sigh and he threw his head back in laughter.

"I'm just having fun, babes. We're having fun."

"Do you ever think we're having too much fun?" Rory asked, trying to get through to the suddenly evasive boy.

A deep sigh escaped him and he knew the jig was up. "What's going on, Lo?"

Rory took her eyes off him as she spoke. "Did you know that your Mom thought you were gay?"

His eyebrows shot up in shock. "She what?"

"When you didn't come home from college with a wife…"

Owen snorted. "Well, I'll have to tell that the 1950s called…" Though Rory wasn't amused by his light remarks. "She said that I'm the only girl you've brought home."

"Rory…"

"What, Owen?" she snapped at him. "I'm just trying to figure out where I stand. I mean, we are really great friends…."

He grabbed hold of her hand. "We are _more_ than really great friends, Lola," Owen interjected. "Do you really think I'd take a random friend home to my family?"

"I thought this was a retreat?" Rory countered. "Right? That what this was all about, for me to see the view from your porch or something ridiculous. Your mom – and apparently your sisters and nieces and nephews – were irrelevant! And yet, they seem to know every last thing about me!"

Owen furrowed his brows as he ran a hand through his hair. Shouting on the corner of First and Main seemed a whole lot more complicated than just fun. But this girl… she wasn't stupid. Owen knew she wasn't dumb; she had to know. "Come on, Ror, you know you are more than just a friend."

"That's right," Rory nodded. "I'm a special friend with benefits."

"God, Lo, why do you have to make this so hard?"

"What's hard, Owen?" she shouted back. "I'm playing by your rules. What do you want me to think? You wooed me on the trail, you let me ramble on about things I wouldn't even tell my mom, then you bring me here, smile at me from across the room, your mother thinks we are practically married, but when it comes down to it, you and I are no more than just fuck buddies!"

Rory inhaled deeply as she was about to go off on another ramble, but Owen stunned her with his admission.

"I love you!"

"Wh-what?"

"You know that we've always been more than fuck buddies – as you so eloquently put it. We've always been more." He waited a beat as he searched her eyes for any indication that she was on the same page as him, but her expression was void of emotion.

"You love me?"

A soft smile cracked Owen's face. "I'm in love with you, Rory. We were a couple from the start, just one that steered clear of labels."

Owen's hands were on her hips, pulling her dangerously close to his dazzling eyes. Eyes she could never reject, but she tried her hardest. "No, no, we labeled. We agreed that we were friends first, lovers second and never boyfriend and girlfriend."

"I want to change that label," Owen whispered in her ear.

Her nose brushed up against his neck, taking in his tantalizing scent. "I want to have fun. You were for fun."

"We could still have fun, carry on having fun…" He kissed her and she kissed him back, briefly. "…you've wrapped up your loose ends. You've got your closure. Don't you think we should start being a real couple?"

His hands ran over her back and he smiled widely at her. He was happy, she wanted to be just as happy as he was and in that moment she believed that he could do that for her.

"Don't you want that?" he asked, "Don't you love me?"

She did love him. She _wanted_ to love him. Logan fooled her into believing they could be something and Owen focused his efforts leading her to believe that they'd never be something. But Owen was the safe bet. He had her back, his kooky family had her back. He was comfortable, trusted. And she was tired of crying. And so she leaned into his kiss.

"Yes."

* * *

The newly-formed couple spent the rest of the afternoon strolling around town at leisure and wound up at Owen's front porch. Just in time for some sweet tea and football with Owen's sisters, nieces and nephews.

"You want to play?" Owen asked just as Rory was sitting down in the white wicker chair next to Audrey.

"I'm sorry, you must have confused me with your other girlfriend," Rory quipped. "You know, the sporty type."

Owen laughed and pressed a quick kiss on her lips. "Girlfriend."

Rory flashed him a winning smile. "Go get 'm, boyfriend." And watched as he jogged down to the field to play with the kids.

"He loves those children to death," Audrey commented as Owen carefully threw the ball to one of Bethany's kids.

"It looks it."

"We were shocked when he decided to accept the job on the trail, we thought that he'd die of homesickness."

Rory laughed, maybe that was why Owen remained mum about his home life – he missed it too much. With that, she could certainly relate.

A comfortable lull in conversation passed between Audrey and Rory. She liked Owen's mom. In a way, she had certain Lorelai-like qualities and Audrey, while enthusiastic, lacked that need-for-perfectness Owen's sisters seem to have.

She felt Audrey's eyes on her and realized that she may have to re-think where Audrey ranked on the scale of perfectness.

"Has Owen ever mentioned his Dad to you?" she asked out of the blue.

"Honestly, Audrey, Owen has been pretty tightlipped. A bit of a man of mystery, if you will.."

"Yes, yes," she nodded deeply, "that sounds like my boy. Always exuberant and yet -- guarded."

Rory nodded understandingly and urged her to continue.

"I think it's because his dad – Benjamin – and I got divorced when he was young. And he was sort of forced to be the little man of the house."

Rory bobbed her head and felt her heart pang for Owen. It was sad. "I never knew – I always figured something really tragic happened. Not that your divorce isn't tragic, but…"

"…it's not death." Audrey finished Rory's thought with a hoot. "I know. But it was tragic. The kids loved their Dad, but I loved him more. And our romance, Rory, was something out of great novels. Secret meetings by the lake, first kisses in torrential downpours, sneaking of for dirt-road rides in his truck. Ben taught me how to drive, you know.." Audrey smiled at her trip down memory lane and Rory was definitely intrigued – this was far more interesting than any action on the football fied.

"What happened?"

"I fell pregnant. He was wild and young and dangerous, and I was young and naïve and in love. He told me he would love me forever and that he was ready for marriage – and I wanted to be ready – so we got married. He was persuasive in that sense." She paused to shoot Rory a knowing smile. "You know why the girls are named the way they are?" Audrey didn't wait for Rory to answer. "It's because Ben wanted the kid's names to start with the first two letters of his name; that's how immature he was."

Her brown curls danced as she laughed at her foolishness.

"What about Owen?" Rory asked.

"Our marriage hit a rough patch," Audrey confessed. "Ben took his whole being a "grown-up" role seriously and he started working and traveling the country for business. I was left with three kids and this small town. I wasn't exactly faithful..."

Rory's eyes widened to the size of saucers, Owen was the product of an affair and couldn't carry on the bizarre family naming tradition, but Audrey was quick to shoot her down.

"Owen is Ben's. Believe me, he is Ben's." Audrey chuckled at, what Rory assumed to be, a good memory. "My fling eventually left town and I realized it was nothing, but I still needed to tell Ben. He left for business and didn't come home for a month. I knew that he was with other women. Petty, meaningless bodies used to get back at me he offered as an explanation. He said he forgave me and understood why I had strayed and that he was one hundred percent committed."

"That's something…" Rory sighed and couldn't help but draw a parallel to her own situation. She desperately wanted Denise to be a petty, meaningless body, but, even if she was, she knew it wasn't that simple. After all, Owen wasn't petty and meaningless to her.

"He was something, my Ben," Audrey sighed, "and I tried my best, pumpkin, I really did. But I couldn't get over it, even though I tried my damndest."

"Owen." Rory nodded as realization hit. Owen was the product of a last reconciliation in the tragic romance between Audrey and Benjamin.

"Exactly. Benjamin wanted to name him Beckett. A strong name, for a strong son. The only son. But I couldn't. I named our boy Owen out of spite."

"And Ben divorced you because you chose a different name for your son?" Rory asked confused – if petty was what Ben and Audrey were playing for, she'd have to give the win to Ben on this one.

"No, pumpkin. He divorced me because I couldn't get past the other women, even though it was my fault because I strayed in the first place. He wanted to marry me; I was the one that messed with Ben's grand plan. I couldn't forgive him. And he left. Told me to call him when I got my things figured out."

Rory bit her bottom lip nervously, and asked, even though she knew the outcome. "And?"

"I haven't called."

"Because you got back with the fling?" Rory asked hoping for a semi-happy ending.

"Because I'm a stubborn old broad," Audrey said candidly. "And now, we've grown apart. I'm sure he's remarried to some women more deserving of his love. I've got my beautiful children and grandchildren and a beautiful home. I have more than I should, considering my terribly selfish ways."

"Ooh, Audrey…" Rory was deeply moved by Audrey's telling. Perhaps, these words had only ever been confided to the pages of a diary or something of the sort because by the way Owen's mother told the story, she was sure the Bernadette, Betty, Bethany and Owen had never been told the truth about their father.

Another wave of silence passed between them, before Audrey broke it.

"He'll pine for you," she said, "for a couple of days, or weeks but he'll be alright. He has his family; we'll pull him back on his feet. You've opened his eyes to love and for that I'm thankful."

Rory frowned at the woman. "What are you talking about?"

"You've got a Ben." She shot Rory a knowing look. And her breath hitched. It was an out. For some odd reason – one tortured soul to another – Audrey had seen through her. Rory knew that Owen wouldn't have told his mother about Logan and yet, she knew. What's more, she was sharing her heartache to prevent Rory from keeping up with this façade.

"You're wrong, Audrey," Rory said as her head spun. Was she? Yes, she was, Rory decided. Her story was nothing like Ben and Audrey and the many flings. It was different. Totally, completely different.

"Are you sure?"

"Completely," Rory nodded, "Owen is my Ben."

* * *

Hours later, Rory lay awake listening to his steady breathing. She couldn't help but think that it was a paradoxical metaphor for what their relationship was. He said he didn't want to do commitment and yet he had been the most stable thing in her life for the past eight months. Until today, until that moment on the corner of Main and First where he decided to change the label, he had been her rock, her confidant. He helped her through the Logan situation, albeit he operated under ulterior motives.

And now she found herself next to him, curled up in bed, in his childhood home. A bed made for two people, a bed for a couple, the bed for the girl he took home to Mom. She wasn't alone any more; she was with Owen. At least, that's what she told him today.

Looking back on it now, she couldn't really understand why she said the words she did. She should've been jumping for joy that a nice, decent, cool dude like Owen wanted to be with her, loved her even, but she couldn't. Lying here in the dark of the night it was crystal clear.

It should've been Logan.

Owen was perfect, but he wasn't her perfect. Logan was her Ben. Rory couldn't be bothered to think about Denise and the possibility of a flowing white wedding gown. It didn't matter. It had to be Logan.

Yes, he shouldn't have walked away at graduation, but she shouldn't have walked away at the Mexican restaurant. There shouldn't have been strings attached to her non-relationship with Owen, but surprise Pinocchio, there were strings.

Point was, things didn't always turn out according to plan. And you could chose to fight, or relent, like Audrey did.

And did Rory want to settle on Owen? She'd have a good shot at a nice, fun life, but her heart knew it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. And maybe her dream had some foreboding powers and Logan would marry Denise – she didn't know – but she needed to give it one last shot.

Her heartbeat increased as excitement grew as Rory formulated a plan. She didn't know what she was doing, but she had to do something. Doing nothing equaled standing still and she had been in limbo long enough.

She gingerly stepped out of bed and quickly changed into the pair of jeans that had been cast to the floor earlier this evening – she'd have to admit that she'd miss that, Owen was a great lover – and threw her belongings into her duffel.

Rory knew it wasn't right. Skipping town, breaking his heart but it the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter. It was selfish and bitchy, but Audrey was right. The boy would bounce back, he'd survive. Telling herself to drag it out, lead him on, would be much worse, she headed for the door. She didn't dare look at him out of fear that he'd wake up.

The girl quietly snuck down the stairs, opened the front door and took a seat on the porch steps. She released a breath into the chilly midnight air and she was almost certain that someone would awake do to the sound of her beating heart, but it remained quiet and she thanked her blessed stars that the Mayfield's were deep sleepers. However, Rory didn't want to risk it, so she quickly dialed a cab and while she waited for her yellow chariot to arrive, she grabbed her notebook and scribbled a note to Owen.

_We were friends and lovers. That's too much to be nothing. We were something, Owen, as much as we ignored and denied it, we were something. But it wasn't enough – something was missing. Thank-you for taking me to Texas, teaching me to have fun and teaching me to follow my heart. I wanted it to be you. – Lola._

Rory folded the note and stuck it in the screen door just as the taxi arrived. As she stood up to greet her driver she realized that she had no clue what she was thinking, but it didn't matter.

She was finally doing.

* * *

**I can't wait to read the reviews on this chapter. I had the best time writing this and I'm so excited for what's to come. Logan is single, but Rory doesn't know. Rory is single, but Logan doesn't know! But they aren't together! Argh! Can you handle the excitement on this first weekend of Winter Break? Happy holidays! **


	11. The Best Friend

**Nothing in my life requires me to be saved, but I've got the worst damsel in distress complex. Yes, I know, girls should be able to save themselves (or be smart enough to keep themselves out of "save me situations") but still…. A guy stepping up to the plate to help a lady out? That's pretty hot. Really hot! (shameless plug: see all the saving scenarios in Love Game!!) **

**Anyway, this chapter marks the return of Finn. Yay! I know you've been waiting for it and I hope this lives up to your expectations, it was a little difficult to get the tone and pacing just right, but I like where this is going! **

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing and loving! You are the BEST! **

* * *

Logan did not know how long he'd been in that bed. Somewhere along the line, he'd moved from the couch to the bed and he'd been there ever since. Three days, maybe, but it could have just as easily been a week or ten days. Going into recluse mode and omitting showers and eating from his daily routine tended to have that effect.

The boy's world had imploded and the damage was immense, especially since it caught him off-guard. Logan had always been the heartbreaker, leaving throngs of girls to lay awake at night, figuring out ways to mend their broken hearts. And he had expected Denise to be there for him, after all, the girl was crazy about him; loved him even.

It was payback. He shouldn't have used her, he knew that and this was the cosmos's way of driving that home. But the girl was there, clean-cut bob, stilettos and all and he took advantage of that. He knew she would not make him forget Rory, but he couldn't resist charming his way in and making Denise believe that whatever they had was real.

And maybe there had been a momentary realness; Logan couldn't tell anymore. He just knew it wasn't right. The right thing would have been to hold off proposing at Richard and Emily's Graduation Party, the right thing would have been to take her on a vacation to Palo Alto to see for herself what a great place it was, the right thing would have been to let her land a job first.

However, that was in the past.

The only right thing to do now was to lie in bed and drift between reality and "what ifs", "could haves" or, better yet, "should haves" to pin-point where, exactly, his world came crashing down. And drink. He'd turned to a cheap bottle of vodka – it was the only thing left in his liquor cabinet and he couldn't bring himself to walk the block and a half to the 24-hour liquor store on the corner. He knew it was a tragic break-up scene, one he'd mock if it hadn't been his own life.

Rejection was certainly a tough pill to swallow even if Denise hadn't been the first girl to reject him. No, that honor went to the girl who was also responsible for his current heartache, this gut wrenching hurt. Rory had made her choice, though and she chose the perfect-haired, all-American frat boy as her knight in shining armor. And he'd done nothing to stop her, he let her do it and now he'd have to let it go. Rory was gone, out of his life.

Finally, almost nine months after he'd asked that question – the one that kicked off this whole mess – he would have to give up and say goodbye to the idea of getting back together with her.

And that was the toughest pill to swallow.

Logan shook his head and rolled his eyes, mildly disgusted by his melodramatic self-pity but not so put off to undertake steps to fix this situation. Instead, he propped himself up on the pillows and poured himself another shot of vodka. The TV's soft blue glow caught his attention and he noticed it was an old episode of Ricki Lake.

A wry smile played tugged at his lips as he realized how his current situation had all the fixings for a juicy episode of a mediocre daytime talk show.

Before he could turn up the volume to determine if these poor saps on T.V. were worse off, his phone buzzed. Logan briefly contemplated letting it go to voicemail, but he didn't.

* * *

Calling a cab and sticking a break-up note in a porch-screened door didn't equal a great breakaway plan, Rory knew that much. She'd been in the backseat of a stale-smelling cab for an hour and a half and she had know clue where to take her newfound freedom.

"Ma'am?" the cab driver asked with a hopeful smile. Sure, the meter was running, but Rory could tell he was growing impatient. "Where are we headed?"

The million dollar question. The question she'd been avoiding every since she'd gotten into the cab and told him to drive circles around the small town next to Owens. Far away enough from him, for now, but she needed a plan and fast.

"Could you just… I don't know… head North, or something?" Rory asked.

The driver snorted in disbelief, but turned on his signal and speed down the street, toward the highway, allowing Rory to return to her thoughts.

Calling her mother crossed her mind a few times, but she did not want to. Historically, relationships were the Achilles heel of their otherwise unbreakable bond. Other boyfriends certainly helped in making it a sticky situation to discuss, but her relationship with Logan was what really shook the mother-daughter bond to its core.

Not that Lorelai hadn't had her fair share of relationships gone awry, but Rory was certain Lorelai wouldn't understand this. Of course, it didn't help that Rory left her mother in the dark about Owen and the casual existence of their non-relationship-relationship, or about Logan and the e-mails, about Denise and Mexican food, or about Ben and peach waffles, but it was far to complicated to feed Lorelai the short script.

Rory had gotten herself into this mess and she needed to fix it. She just needed to figure out how. Obviously, San Francisco crossed her mind but what would she do? Show up at his doorstep, only to have Denise open the door? At two in the morning that seemed like the perfect solution, but in the crisp dawn light it seemed ridiculous.

Frustrated, she dug her hands into her coat pocket and she immediately retracted her left hand as a sharp pain hit her finger. A paper cut! She held her index finger up to her eyes and squinted to examine her wound. Rory carefully extracted the offending piece of paper to see what caused her injury.

It was a card for Rothschild Premier Hotels and Finn's number was written neatly on the back. "Call me any time" he told her. She stole a peak at her watch; 6:25 a.m. Rory stared at the number again, before reaching for her purse and pulling out her phone. Any time he said, any time.

It took four or five rings, but Finn finally picked up.

"Hello?" his groggy morning voice greeted her. Under normal circumstances she would have broken out in a ramble, but the sound of his voice left her speechless. Maybe it was the early hour, maybe the intensity of skipping town finally hit her, or maybe she was just relieved to have at least one person to confide in.

"Hello?" Finn asked again, before becoming frustrated. "I don't know who you are, but look here, it's bloody 6:30 in the morning…"

"No, don't hang up, Finn…" she sputtered and his tone softened immediately. "Love?"

A small sigh of relief escaped her, before she started to talk. "Hey Finn."

"Where are you, Rory? What's going on? Did something happen?"

The smallest smile played at her lips at Finn's concerned tone. "I'm in a cab."

"Where?" he demanded.

"Texas. Around Houston somewhere."

"Rory…" An alarmed Finn drew out. She needn't clarify; he was able to put the pieces together but he asked anyway. "What happened?"

She knew he was going to ask that question and he deserved an answer; after all, she'd called him at this ungodly hour. "I am.. I was on a retreat with Owen…"

Finn picked up on the pain in her tone, and worried that the frat boy had hurt her. "And where the fuck is he now?"

"At his house…" Rory inhaled deeply, blinking back a few stray tears, before revealing all. "I left, Finn. I…he… God… he said he _loved_ me, Finn."

"I take it the e-mails weren't just for closure?"

She could appreciate Finn's straightforwardness. "No," she replied, matching his tone. "I left Owen a note and called a cab."

"Right, okay. Let Finny think." He paused for a moment. "Where are you, precisely, love?"

"I don't know."

"Ask the driver," he instructed lightly.

"Okay." Rory pulled the phone away from her ear a little. "Excuse me, where are we?"

"Interstate 610 – looping around the city. Kind of in a holding pattern, awaiting further instruction…"

Rory ignored the slightly snappy tone of her cabbie and turned conversation back to Finn. "Did you get that?"

"Yeah. Tell 'm to take you to the airport – we've got a hotel there, just tell the manager who you are and they'll take care of you until I'm there."

"Until you are here?"

"I'm in New Orleans now," Finn clarified, "let me just change a few meetings around and I'll be there in a couple of hours."

"Oh Finn no, you don't have to do that."

"Love…" - she could practically see the wistful smile on his face - "I want to. See you in a bit."

* * *

"Huntzberger," he grunted into the phone, obviously not in the mood for chit-chat.

"Mate, it's Finn."

"Hey."

The line remained quiet, neither boy quite knowing what to say. In his mix of emotions, Logan still felt a tiny bit of anger toward Finn – his best friend should not have walked out of the bar to chase her. Friends first and all, right?

"Look, I'm sorry about how my visit ended, mate," Finn said sincerely. "It wasn't intentional and the whole night scored remarkably high in terms of awkwardness. You and that girl, and Rory and that guy. I just… I just wanted to see if you're alright…"

Logan let out a deep sigh and the anger ebbed from his body. "Don't worry about it, man. It was just a bad night all-around."

"Yeah…" Finn started, but Logan interjected, suddenly very glad that Finn called.

"We broke up. Denise and I," he offered voluntarily, "broke up."

This information didn't shock him, but for the sake of his friend he feigned it.

"Yeah, she with me, actually," Logan said sounding detached, "tossed her keys right in a bowl of Alfredo. Slam dunk. Buh-bye."

"Wow," Finn let out a surprised chuckle. "I don't know whether to congratulate you, apologize or report a case of domestic violence…" He paused, turning more serious. "You sound like shit."

Logan sighed, dropping his guard. "I feel like shit."

"She was just a girl, mate," Finn said, "you can't let her get to you…Besides, the only reason I introduced her to you was because she was a guarantee. A quick fuck, one to get you back in the game. How the hell was I to know you'd keep her around for eight months? Who keeps the rebound girl?"

"I wasn't going to. She was just…"

"…there."

"And I thought she'd be…"

"…different."

"But she wasn't…"

"… her."

"And now…"

"Your life is like a country song," Finn laughed at his joke.

"A country song?" Logan said in surprise, "I thought you only listened to trendy Euro-pop?"

"I'm in Texas, mate. Got to blend with the locals."

"Texas?" Logan never kept track of his friend's travels, but Texas seemed a little out of the way for Finn.

"If heartache were wine, you'd be drunk all the time," Finn quipped.

Logan snorted, "More like vodka."

"Whatever works, mate, whatever works."

A moment of silence past between the boys, before Finn spoke up again. "So, I'm assuming you'll be looking for a new place of residence?"

"Yeah, I'm going to have to."

"A realtors dream is what you are, mate," Finn laughed, "in the meantime, why don't you check into a room at the Rothschild City Suites downtown?"

"Finn…" Logan said in a warning tone – he didn't need help.

"There is only so much wallowing I can allow, only so much I can be responsible for. Last time I arranged a date…"

"…and look where that landed me!" Logan threw his hands up to emphasis his point, even though Finn couldn't see them.

"This is what I'm saying," Finn nodded, acknowledging Logan's tragic situation, "it's the least I can do."

Logan remained quiet, contemplating the offer.

"Oh, come on, some room service, clean sheets and a hot shower will do you good..."

The offer was tempting. A chance of scenery might do him good, but still, it would require some clean sweats and the actual trip outside to get there. "I don't know, Finn…"

"I'll call Colin and he can fill you in on the dynamics of his relationship to Stephanie. Two words: couples yoga."

That almost made Logan laugh. "Shit. Not couples yoga. Fine, I'll take the room."

"Excellent. I'll call to make the arrangements."

"Hey Finn?" Logan asked quickly, before Finn hung up.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

* * *

Finn had never actually visited a Rothschild Airport Hotel before. If he travelled, he never stayed in airport hotels. He rarely had to since his family owned a lot of real estate. On the off chance he had to stay in a for-the-masses-accommodation it was luxury suites all the way.

Nevertheless, these Rothschild Airport Hotels were kind of nice, what with their quasi-European design and trendy neon-green-and-turquoise blue motif.

"Miss Gilmore's room, please," Finn said as he approached the front desk.

"Sir, it's not our policy to…" she started off in monotonously, before she realized who had made the request. "Oh my gosh, Mr. Rothschild. I'm so sorry…"

"No worries, I'll just be needing the key."

"Of course, Mr. Rothschild," she replied nervously as she scrambled to make a second keycard, "she's in the Grand Suite – it's the best room we have."

Finn tapped the door lightly, feeling a little anxious as to what the other side of the door would reveal.

A few seconds later she opened the door and she enveloped him in a big hug. "You came," she muffled into his chest and he let out a soft chuckle. "Of course I did, love."

Rory pulled out of the embrace to look him in the eye. "Thank-you."

Finn shot her a soft smile and noticed that she looked pretty haggard. Lack of sleep, sure, but it was clear that finding the love of her life with someone else and writing break-up notes to practically perfect boys had left their mark.

"You look like you need a drink," Finn told her, "a really strong one."

Rory cracked a smile. "How 'bout a strong coffee instead?"

Hours later, they were surrounded by coffee mugs and half-eaten plates of various room-services meals. Finn had kicked-off his shoes and undid his tie as he lay horizontally across the bed. Rory leaned against a mountain of pillows, propped up against the head board and rested her toes touched Finn's knees. They had discussed everything, from the rejected proposal, to Owen's half-truths, the awful Mexican dinner and Audrey's romantic past. It was a lot to digest, but Finn was handling it well, letting Rory ramble and rant, getting everything off her chest.

"…and why her? The Bob? You know I dreamt about them getting married? Emily said it was my fault – that my feminist ideals got in the way."

This caught Finn's attention. "Your what?"

But she wasn't listening to the confusion in his voice. "She wore a white dress..." Rory shook her head, "as if."

"Love…"

"What?"

"It's a dream," Finn said firmly, trying to nip this rant in the bud. He wanted to shout that Denise and Logan had long since broken up, but he couldn't – that wasn't his place.

"That could be reality," Rory retorted, "you saw how happy they looked at dinner."

"You and I have very, very different definitions of happy," Finn shot back through a light laugh, but Rory wasn't amused.

"What the hell am I going to do, Finn?" Rory threw her hands up in despair. "Since when did I become the girl that got caught up like this? I'm freaking obsessed!"

"Who are we talking about? Owen or Logan?" Finn wanted to know.

"Logan," Rory answered immediately, as if it were obvious.

"There's your answer, then, love. You're caught up in him. You still love him. You should tell him what you've been telling me."

Rory nodded slowly. "I know." It wasn't clear if she was answering to Finn's first observation, or his second, but it was true regardless.

"So what are the plans?"

Rory rolled over and hid her face in the pillows. It may have been true, it was something immensely difficult – and scary – to grasp. Right now, she had nothing. Her career was out the window, she broke Owen's heart and Logan was one big shade of gray. "Stay in this hotel room forever. I'm sure you can arrange something."

"Love!"

"Finn!" Rory shouted, "He's with Denise – he's happy!"

"Trust me on this, Rory, he's not."

This changed things. "He isn't?"

Finn shook his head. "Look, I can't tell you what to do, but it's so obvious you are mad about him. Mad enough to rack up a 500 dollar cab bill, just to get away from Owen. Mad enough to let Logan go, because you think would've been happy with that trollop."

"Would have been?" Rory asked as her eyes went wide. "Would have been?"

Finn ignored her question as he continued. "Now you can sit her and weigh your options forever or you can…"

"What do you mean 'would have been', Finn?" Rory demanded as she scooted off the bed. "Did they break up? Did something happen? Is he okay?" Her tone changed from eager hope to concern as her questioning progressed, but Finn was reluctant to answer.

"Love… it's not my place… I can't."

"Finn!"

"All I can say is call him." Finn held out his phone for her to take, but Rory had other plans as she started throwing items back into her purse.

"What are you doing?" he wanted to know.

"Going to San Francisco." Rory's mind was made up. This was her plan. She'd regret it forever if she didn't go. "I have to see him. You are right. I should be telling him this – obviously there are things he needs to tell me."

Finn's lips pulled into a happy smile. Now that was the result he had been hoping for. "Lucky for you, love, I've arranged a jet."

* * *

**IEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!  
She's going to see Logan!  
I'm excited!  
Please review if you are too!  
****:-) **


	12. Friends No More

**Since you were so excited, I couldn't wait. This is just the tip of the ice berg. **

* * *

Everything that happened between Houston and San Francisco was a blur. Rushing to catch the jet, trying to make small talk with Finn, the dull thud with which the plane hit the tarmac, the limo inching its way through downtown, it all faded to the background as she stood waiting for the elevator in the Rothschild City Suite.

Rory bit her lip nervously as she watched the numbers descend. It took all her strength to focus on those numbers, but she had to keep staring at those red-dotted illuminating numbers, otherwise her thoughts would drift and she would loose her nerve. She even tuned out most of what Finn was saying, though she heard him mentioning that he'd be in suite 2939 until 11 am tomorrow morning, and he stressed that if he was needed, to call. She nodded absentmindedly, keeping her eyes firmly on number.

A few moments later, the elevator hit the ground floor and with a swift swoosh the doors pinged open. A handful of people exited and Rory briefly wondered how many people had done crazy things in the name of love. Finn didn't allow her to ponder, as he gently led her into the elevator.

"You are going to the top floor," Finn said as he pressed the button, "suite A."

Rory gave him a faint smile and took a moment to examine herself in the elevator mirror. Her ponytail had lost all its bounce and now lay slack against her neck. Her eyes were tired and rimmed with day-old mascara, her lips were bare and beginning to crack due to the dry airplane air. Rory started to dig around in her purse for a lip gloss, chap stick or something.

"Are you sure you are alright, love?" Finn asked, concern lacing his tone. "You're looking a bit pale…"

Rory looked up and gave Finn a more genuine smile. "I'm okay, Finn," she breathed out. "I'm just nervous and," she glanced back at the mirror, "wondering if I should shower before…"

"Hey, nothing says I love you like taking a skipping town and taking a spontaneous trip across a country to say hello to the one you love," Finn said with a grin. "That, in itself, makes up for any possible airplane funk…" He leaned in closer and inhaled her scent. "…which you aren't contaminated with. You smell like roses and sunshine, love!"

Rory tried to laugh, but Finn could tell she wasn't really feeling it. "Don't wait. I know you want this to be perfect and all Hollywood, but the time will never be right to do this, know it's going to be worth it."

She looked at him and she knew he was right. Not only was Finn always right about these situations, she knew she'd always regret this if she didn't try. "I know," Rory said, releasing another breath.

"Good," Finn nodded as the elevator slowed to his floor. He gave Rory a quick hug. "Good luck, love. And call. For whatever reason. Unless, of course, the making up goes incredibly well…"

A surprised laugh escaped Rory. "Finn!"

"Made you laugh!" Finn joked before stepping out and leaving Rory to face the last few floors alone.

* * *

Moving from his memory-ridden apartment to a room at the Rothschild City Suite was definitely a good move for Logan. Sure, these rooms were designed in trendy turquoise blues and neon greens and used sleek, modern furniture designed, yet failing, to recreate the exact comforts of home.

"But I like it," he told the empty room as he lay diagonal across the giant bed, "it's like a fucking IKEA."

He didn't want to be reminded of home, or anything for that matter. This generic, sterile hotel room allowed him a fresh start. A clean slate and that was just what he needed. He was over the analyzing, done with picking apart every little detail of his lovelife.

He nodded to himself, content with his resolution. Logan decided that his new me needed a shower. He let the water run scorching hot and he let the water rain down on him. No soap, no shampoo, no scrubbing. Just him, the running water and his mind empty, for the first time in days.

It felt good. Normal even, as far as a guy who had taken up residency in a hotel room can be considered normal.

After the meditation-like shower, Logan slipped on a pair of fresh boxers and his favorite sweats. He sauntered back into the bathroom to brush his teeth – seemed like what his new me would do – and as he rinsed his mouth he considered buying some cologne. Rory hadn't liked the smell, claiming that guys shouldn't wear perfume and Denise had never brought it up, but now, with the ladies out of his life, he could do whatever the hell he pleased. Satisfied, he spat out the toothpaste rinse and smiled at his reflection in the mirror.

"Excellent," he told himself, ignoring the paleness of his skin and the big bags under his eyes. Instead Logan focused on his still-damp hair, toned chest and almost-back-to-normal-smirk. "We're getting there."

* * *

The knock was barely audible, even to her, and she was the one that had done it. Maybe it was her subconscious telling her that she wasn't ready for it. After all, if she had really wanted to do this reconciliation, she would have knocked harder, right? And she probably would have had a lipstick, or something, in her purse considering that lipstick was the pick-me-up her face so desperately needed, right now, to face him.

Rory had almost convinced herself that this was all wrong, when the door opened and there he stood. Just like that.

Crooked, confused smirk on his face. A bath towel casually slung around his shoulders, catching the last drips of water that fell from his towel-dried hair. Bare chest. Heather gray sweat pants hung low on his hips, a strip of blue-checkered boxers peeking out above, teasing her.

To say he looked better than she remembered was an understatement. He, opening the door like that, took her breath away. But, Rory knew that he wasn't as well as his body looked. He looked drained, probably the most tired she'd ever witnessed him and that's taking the weekend-long benders and weeklong midterm studying sessions into account. The bags under his eyes, the paleness of his skin; it hurt her. It hurt, that he was so visibly hurting.

As she continued to study his features, being completely and totally caught up in the moment, she realized that he wasn't going to talk.

Perhaps her presence rendered him speechless, or perhaps he was too surprised to talk, too sad to send her away.

Rory took a deep breath before finally speaking. "Hey."

He swallowed hard, buying himself a moment of time, before replying just as brilliantly as she. "Hey."

Rory couldn't help but smile faintly at their awkward introduction – it did nothing to alleviate the building tension between them.

"Uh, I'm sorry," Logan mumbled, "I'm just… I wasn't…" he swallowed and tried again, "why don't you come in?"

Rory nodded slowly and followed him into his room. "These Rothschild Inns look the same all over the place. The room I had in Texas was just like this, except everything that's blue here was green and what was green, is blue…"

"Texas?" Logan shot her a confused look. He knew she rambled when she was nervous, but id she seriously expect him to allow her to come in his room and discuss Rothschild interior designs nationwide?

"I was in Texas this morning. Houston, actually, and…"

"Houston?!" Logan's eyes widened in surprised outrage. "With Frat Boy?"

"He's not…" Rory started to defend Owen, but quickly changed gears, "I left Houston."

"Did you leave him?" he practically spat at her.

"We were never together!" Rory claimed in outrage, but Logan wasn't buying it. He was never one to believe in traditional labels. "Did you fuck him?"

"Logan!" Rory crossed her arms over her chest and clacked her tongue disapprovingly. Of course Logan knew it was an inappropriate question to ask, but he still wanted to know, even if he was going to hate the answer. "Well, did you?"

"What do you want to hear, Logan? That I did?" She shouted as she gesticulated angrily. "As if it makes a difference! You have Denise!"

His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he realized that she knew nothing of their break-up. Also, he noted, that she hadn't crossed his mind in days, not until Rory mentioned it. Logan shrugged deeply. "Denise and I broke up."

A moment of silence passed between them. Logan's detached, emotionless statement left Rory feeling confused. If he had loved Denise, then he should have been more upset – or maybe it was a front. She didn't know and didn't have time to analyze. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry she and I broke up?!"

Rory scoffed. "I'm being polite, Logan. I don't know what else to say."

"A real apology, for starters!"

Rory shrugged in confused anger. "For what?!"

"For screwing this up!" Logan waved his hand at the empty space between them. "For screwing this up!"

"Me?!" Rory was offended. "You were the one with the blue box and the big ring…"

"…and you were the one that said no!" Logan shouted back. "I loved you, Rory! I did nothing but love you!"

Rory let out a frustrated groan. Didn't he understand? "Love isn't enough, Logan! I needed a job, I needed options, travel. I couldn't be an wife right out of college. I needed to grow up first."

"You were the oldest sophomore I've met," Logan accused, "you were grown up."

Rory let his words sink in for a moment. Maybe, to the outside world, she had her life set out and she was settled. Nevertheless, he was her boyfriend; soul mate. He ought to have known better.

"I just wasn't ready," she whispered, almost apologetically. "I thought you knew. I didn't know you were going to walk away."

"What was I going to do, Rory? Sleep on your front porch and beg you to marry me?" Logan yelled at her . "You turned me down, Gilmore, that message was loud and clear."

Rory's sorrow quickly turned to resentment. "So you scurry off to San Francisco and start living some cheap floozy?"

She didn't know that it was unintentional, but Logan didn't want to give Rory the satisfaction of knowing that. So instead, he defended his ex. "Denise wasn't cheap."

"Please. Anyone could see that she was nothing but a two-bit-gold-digger who met you at that crappy bar she happened to stumble into," Rory said with a crooked eyebrow.

"Whatever, Emily."

"Whatever, call me names, Logan. I didn't handle letting you down well, I'll admit that, but you shouldn't have asked and when you heard my answer, you shouldn't have bolted. That was cowardly and immature and it showed just how ready neither of us was ready to be married."

"Not true," he shot back. "We would've been a great married couple. So what, you didn't have a job? You wouldn't need one right away and we would have found something in San Francisco…"

"What about landing something on my own merit?"

"Like trailing around in some fucking bus was worth it?"

"It was a job! My job!"

"You're worth more!" Logan shot back, frustration growing in his tone. "You're worth more than that crappy job and that douche bag of a guy. "

"I am? I am?" Rory's angry tone had now increased to a shriek. "Then why didn't you stick around, huh? At least Owen was there for me…"

Logan snorted in disbelief.

"No, he was!" Rory shouted back. How dare he criticize Owen after what he'd done with Denise? "Do you want to hear how he held me at night when I cried? Or, how he got me real coffee when I'd be up 'till four in the morning in some hotel lobby crying into my horrible coffee? Or how…"

"Just stop it. Stop it!" Logan demanded furiously. "I'm not going to do battle of the exes with you. If he was so great you wouldn't be here right now, and if you are regretting that, than by all means, get the fuck out."

His eyes narrowed to slits and he clenched his jaw so tightly, Rory was sure it was going to snap. She was quite certain she looked the same way as their fighting had escalated. It had disintegrated into a battle of would - , should - and could-haves and who had hurt whom more with his, or her ex.

They used to be happy, and it had come to this. Pathetic. She turned on her heel, away from him and she heard him sigh in defeat.

Rory turned, quickly, and stepped forward, taking his head her hands and kissed him. His words vanished into the kiss as he responded instantly to the familiar feeling of her lips against his. Logan nipped her bottom lip and slipped his tongue into her mouth as soon as her lips parted.

Her hand dropped from framing his face and she let them roam free. Ruffling his messy hair, across that bare chest and finally settling with one behind his neck, on one ending up on his sweat pant clad rear.

Logan's lips stayed on hers and the rest of him ached to be just as close. His hands ran up and down her back, itching to get under the soft fabric of her button down. She may have initiated this with the kiss, but he was in control now. His right hand stopped tracing circles on her back and moved to her front, where he expertly undid the buttons of her shirt.

There tongues continued doing battle – something that obviously wasn't working with words tonight – as Logan and Rory were caught up in a dance choreographed by frenzied kisses and tempting touches.

After a few seductive steps around the room, Rory found herself without a shirt, with her back pressed against the neon green wall, trapped by Logan's arms on either side of her.

Their eyes locked for one heated moment, though neither spoke. Logan's hands ran through Rory's hair as he moved her closer, once again closing the gap between them with his mouth. Instinctively, her leg hooked around his and he dropped one hand to under her ass, keeping her in an upright position.

She leaned in deeper, making sure to grind against him, before switching up positions once more. He mustn't forget that she – not he – was the one in control.

A throaty moan escaped him and his gaze flew to hers. The smug, satisfied look on her face momentarily enraged him enough to think about giving in, giving up, letting her win, but he was too far in this to walk away. The swivel of her hips caused him to groan once more, before his left hand flew to her hair, stroking it once, before he guided her head back to his and kissed her. Pants were discarded as their dance took them toward the bed.

He knees buckled as she pushed him up against it, before straddling him. Logan's arms immediately found their way around her waist and he pulled her down closer. A kiss on the lips, a nibble on the ear, a trail of kissed on her neck, before Logan flipped her over and repeated the steps, and more.

* * *

It was silent for a few moments as they lay, flat on their backs, next to each other on the bed. Beads of sweat on both their heads, both wrapped up in their own world, engulfed by the silence of the room.

"You could have just answered my question," Logan said, finally, his voice cracking slightly.

She could have sworn she heard a smirk in his tone and she rolled over, wrapping herself in the white sheet as she went, and faced him. "Talk is cheap," she replied coyly, but regretting the statement immediately. This wasn't causal campaign trail sex, this wasn't Owen. This was different, she wanted this to be different.

"We are going to have to talk, though, if…" Logan paused and his eyes studied her face intently. "You want to do this, right?"

Rory held his gaze – he was insane if he thought she did not. "Yes."

His lips tugged upwards as he spoke with careful optimism. "We are going to have to talk, because…"

She knew he had some issues - Owen - and God knew that she still had some things to work through... and together, they could only hope that they'd make it work this time. But that was serious talk, morning talk. Tonight, right now, she just wanted to lay here next to him. Be in the moment with him.

"I know, me too," she said. "But not right now."

She rolled in a little closer and found her nook in his chest. Maybe it was _her_ nook, too, Rory thought, but she pushed that thought out as soon as it entered.

"Morning?" he asked, protectively draping his arm around her, wondering if Frat Boy ever did the same.

Rory nodded into his chest. "Morning."

* * *

**Hope this lived up to your sky high expectations. Like I say, tip of the iceberg. The tippity tip. We've got heart-to-hearts instead of shouting. Owen will probably make an appearance. And Finn is still wandering around the hotel. **

**And , yes, the quip about Rory being like Emily with her quip about the two-bit-gold-digger thing was totally intentional! **


	13. Not Nothing

**Ugh. I can't believe how lame, lame, lame I've been about updating. My brain has been preoccupied with other thoughts. I kind of have this idea for a blog/book/thing but this little nugget has seriously distracted me from this story. Plus, I've been totally obsessed with Avatar since seeing it 2 days ago, Katy Perry's engagement to Russel Brand (I'm a stickler for the whole "taming the lothario" thing, and watching clips of Nick Jonas and his new band on YouTube. Whatever. **

**Anyway, back on point: this story. I'm glad most of you liked the Big Fight scene. I was so exited to write it, that I wrote so fast and I was worried it might be a little anti-climatic. But it wasn't. I think. Thanks for the sweet reviews!!! You make me smile! Here is pretty much the rest of the iceberg, as promised. There might be a tad bit more on the way.

* * *

**

Rory couldn't help but smirk as she noted the reoccurring theme in her life: lying awake in random hotel rooms at four o'clock in the morning, racking her brain for answers to her life's great questions.

Some eight months ago, she had found herself lying in a very similar position, curled up next to a naked boy in an unfamiliar hotel bed, but the circumstances this time around were entirely different. This time, she didn't want this boy to release her from his clammy grip. Honestly, if Rory had her way, she would like to stay like this forever, her back pressed up against his chest, tangled up in a mess of hotel sheets.

Technically, that went against her long-formed belief that hotel beds were made for couples, but tonight she allowed herself to belief that she was going to be part of a real couple again.

Rory tired to roll from her side on to her back, but at her slightest movement Logan tightened his left arm around her waist; he wasn't letting go anytime soon. The tiniest sight passed over Rory's lips. For all Logan's angry words spewed that night , his actions made his intentions completely clear. She relented at his touch and snuggled up closer to him, burying her face into his outstretched right arm, even though she knew tonight's events would keep sleep at bay. Ditching Owen, finding Finn, her hero, knocking on Logan's door, foot-stomping, yelling and shouting. And that kiss, this kiss that lead to so much more.

And so, she lay awake, staring at his strong muscular arm. If she squinted through the darkness, she could make out the outline of his hand. Rory had always loved his hands; the way either one of them fit perfectly on the small of her back, the way – at one point during their relationship – the simplest brush of his finger on her cheek melted her heart, the way her fingers fit perfectly between the spaces of his fingers, like they belonged there.

Laying there way peaceful, meditating on the vague outline of his hand. His pinky transported her all the way back to the first time they'd met, standing in front of the Yale coffee cart, Marty by her side and the unimpressed, uninterested, 'hi' of acknowledgement he shot at her direction. Logan's ring finger made her mind float to her grandparents wedding anniversary. Rory's stomach dropped in embarrassed excitement as she recalled how she boldly laid out her feelings for him, waiting anxiously for his reply. Getting caught in the closet was easily one of her most cherished memories, the second being the night he showed up at her window. "I like Logan," she had told Marty hours before, and there he was, as if Logan had heard it.

An involuntary grin captured her face. That night was definitely a good night. Logan's index finger landed her right back on top of that scaffolding. Dolled up and ready to jump, she took his hand. That was most likely the first time she realized how perfect his hands were. Her eyes fixed to his thumb as many, many moments of their relationship peacefully floated by. Some long-forgotten, but most still vivid in her mind's eye.

Suddenly, a deep buzz filled the room – it was her phone. Rory wasn't thinking about who was trying to reach her, just about how to make the offending noise stop. She desperately wanted to keep hold of the tranquility for a little while longer and for that Logan needed to be asleep.

Rory carefully wiggled her way out of his grip, just as the buzzing stopped. Frustrated, she cursed herself for putting her cell phone in her pants pocket and then cursed herself even more for having crazy make-up sex first, how in the hell was she going to find her pants and where her cell was, now?

Another deep buzzing penetrated the silence and Rory located her cell phone. Without thinking she pressed the little green button to retrieve the call. "Hello?"

The person on the other end remained silent for a moment, causing Rory's heartbeat to increase to a million beats a minute – did something serious happen, was it her mom, or grandparents? - but the person sighed and Rory knew immediately knew who it was.

"Owen?" she asked as she carefully reached for a forgotten shirt on the floor. "Hold on." The shirt belonged to Logan, and she couldn't help but smile as his lingering scent hit her nose. She slipped it on over her bare shoulders and tiptoed to the bathroom. Owen remained quiet as she put down the toilet seat and sat down, crossing one leg over the other, very much like a business woman taking an important call.

"You all set?" he asked quietly and Rory nodded into the phone – Owen knew her well.

"Yeah."

Still, neither could start the conversation. Granted, it was a tough one to start. Going by the note, Owen should have known not to call; however, Rory knew Owen and she knew that he'd call, eventually.

"It's sunny here," Owen informed her dryly, "about 75 degrees. A real pretty day."

"Um?" Rory asked, slightly confused as to why he was calling her with the weather report.

"It should be raining, shouldn't it? A thunderstorm, a big torrential downpour, a fucking tornado warning at the very least…."

"You found the note?" Rory asked, though it came out sounding like a statement.

"I found the note," Owen confirmed, his cold tone cutting through the silence.

It stung, his tone definitely stung. Skipping town in the middle of the night wasn't one of her finest moments. It wasn't how she planned it, she wasn't even really thinking. Rory just knew that she had to get out and she deserved this tone, this coldness.

Inhaling deeply, she was ready to go off in an apologetic ramble, but he didn't let her.

"What the hell is going on?" Owen demanded, but he couldn't keep up the front. He was hurt, and it showed. "You said you loved me," he said whining, sounding like a wronged little boy. "You said - "

"I know what I said!" Rory interrupted him harshly. The only reason she had said it was because he practically begged her to say it, tricking her by asking it as a question with his stupid blue eyes staring at her. She let out a deep sigh before repeating her words more slowly. "I know what I said."

"So you lied to me?"

Why he had to ask was a mystery to Rory. He had to know the answer; hearing it from her would only hurt him more. "Owen…"

"No," he shouted. "What happened, Rory? One minute everything was perfect and then you walked out the door!"

"It wasn't perfect, Owen," Rory countered calmly, shaking her head, "we couldn't even acknowledge what we had."

"I was scared," Owen offered lamely as an excuse, but Rory wasn't feeling it.

"You know there was more than that," she said in a soft tone.

The line went silent for a moment, before Owen spoke slowly as realization hit. "You are with him now, aren't you?"

Rory ran her big toe over the soft turquoise bathmat, contemplating how to soften the blow, but she decided there was no way to do so. "Yes, but Owen –"

"What the fuck, Rory?" he shouted, his voice cracking in hurt. "What the fuck? You said you'd be my girlfriend!"

Rory's eyes widened in mix of embarrassment and shock. What were they – in middle school? "I was your girlfriend for about two and a half hours, Owen!"

"Officially," he countered, "I told you, to me, we were a couple from the start. And besides, you yourself said we were something."

"But…"

"No," Owen wasn't hearing it. What about all of the nights I held you as you cried, what about the poolside cocktails and coffees and jokes about the politicians and staying up watching the Travel Channel. We had all the makings of a great couple. We have chemistry, damn it!"

It was true. On paper, Owen and Rory seemed like a golden couple. She being the smart, organized attractive one, and him being the funny, boyishly handsome one. It was easy and comfortable, but as Rory knew all too well, great love was never simple and comfortable. It was all-consuming and messy. Blinding and desperately passionate. Other people often added to the complicatedness of it all. And sometimes it didn't work out and that made it tragic. But, sometimes it did work out, and it didn't matter who got hurt and bruised along the way, because it was worth it in the end.

Even though love made selfish, it hurt Rory to know that Owen was aching. Without him, she doubted she would have survived on the trail. And he was right, Owen was the one who saw her at her darkest moments and dragged her through it all with his mission of 'just having fun.' Rory heaved a heavy sigh as her eyes filled with tears. "It just wasn't enough, Owen."

Again, a beat of silence, before he spoke. The sadness in his tone was replaced by cool distance. "You know, I hadn't expected it to feel like this," he told her.

"What?"

"Not being loved."

"You are loved," Rory countered weakly, as she thought about Audrey and Owen's sisters.

"Not by you, Lola," he said his voice filled with pain, sending a killer guilt trip on Rory.

"Owen, please…"

"What are you going to say, Rory? That it'll all be okay? I'll find a new girl; a better girl?" he asked her sarcastically.

He was mad, she understood but he had to know that this was difficult for her, too. Especially at four in the morning, especially with Logan in the other room.

"I'm sorry, Owen," she said. "I was sad and confused and hurt and broken and you were there and… I'm sorry."

"Yeah," he nodded, not all too convinced. Another wave of silence passed between them and Rory's eyes fixed on her big toe as it ran over the same piece of bathmat. This conversation tired her, frustrated her. Yes, it was sad for Owen. Yes, she could have handled it better, but it wasn't all her fault and she wouldn't take all the blame.

"What did you want me to do, Owen? Lead you on? Wouldn't that have been worse?"

He sighed indifferently. "I just don't get why you had to leave in the middle of the night."

Briefly, she contemplated telling Owen about the complicated relationship his parents had, that inspired her little breakaway, but she didn't. That was Audrey's cross to bear. "I had to."

The conversation was brought to a screeching halt, once again, as they were both caught up in the tension. Really, there was nothing left to say. No words could ease Owen's pain, and nothing he could say would convince her to jump on a plane to Texas. Sometimes things just didn't work out.

"So this is how it ends, huh?" Owen asked, the sadness still evident in his tone, "I guess this is goodbye?"

Rory let her toe move across the bathmat once more, before speaking those inevitable words. "Yeah, it is."

He inhaled deeply, as if he was trying to take everything good about her in that breath.

"Alright."

And with that, it was done. He'd hung up, leaving her with the deafening dial tone buzzing in her ear. She shut her phone and stared it for a moment, before dropping her gaze to her big toe. Rory wondered if she'd leave a lasting imprint on the bathmat. She smirked absentmindedly at the thought and ran her toe across it once more as her thoughts returned to Owen for a brief moment. It was over. Whatever thing she had with Owen was finished. Her choice was clear to him and he would back off, move on, find someone new, Rory was sure of that.

She carefully opened the bathroom door, hoping to crawl right back next to Loan as if nothing had happened, but a dim light flooded the room and Rory knew that meant that Logan was awake. She entered the room and saw him lying on the bed, a sheet barely covering his modesty, staring into nothing. The sad scene he made, broke her heart.

"Was it him on the phone?" Logan asked trying to sound unaffected by that idea.

"Yeah," Rory admitted as she leaned against the neon-green wall. "I had left him a note the night I left…"

"That was thoughtful," he retorted and went back to staring. Rory couldn't tell if he was being sincere or sarcastic as she observed him, observing the mess she'd made.

"This thing with Owen is over," Rory said, "It was over when I left Texas, but now it's really over. He knows it's over."

It took a moment for her words to compute in his brain, but his nodding let her know that he'd heard her. "I'm sorry about last night," she continued, but Logan cut her off.

"Don't apologize, Rory, I started it."

She nodded slowly, a sudden awkwardness taking over. "This is a little weird, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Logan nodded in agreement, cracking a wry smile. "Who would've thought… you know everyone used to be so envious of us?"

"Everybody?" Rory asked skeptically, her tone laced in mild amusement.

Logan chuckled at her comment. "Stephanie, mostly," he shrugged, "she wanted Colin to commit, like I did."

"Steph just wanted a Birkin bag," Rory shot back lightly which caused Logan to smirk as his gaze trailed to her. He couldn't help but note how good, natural she looked in his shirt.

"Those were the days, huh?" she asked, though it wasn't really a question. "Simple."

Logan furrowed his brow in confusion. "Simple? We were never simple. You remember how many times I came this close to fucking the whole boyfriend thing up?"

Rory laughed heartily as she nodded in agreement. "Maybe so, but it was a lot simpler than this mess we're in now."

"We'll work it out," Logan said, trying to reassure himself more than anyone. " I want to work it out."

"Me too."

"Sometimes things don't go as planned," Logan continued, his voice turning serious "I never expected you to turn down my proposal. I never expected to start something semi-serious with Denise."

Rory frowned at the mention of her name. The other woman. Of course, they'd have to talk about it. Yelling about it was childish and stupid. Just as she'd been with Owen, Logan had been with Denise.

"Did you love her?" she asked, curiosity overriding the hint of jealousy in her tone.

Logan turned his head and met her gaze head on. "Did you love him?"

"Does it matter to you?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

He shot the question back just as quickly. "Does it matter to you?"

Rory gave him a weak smile. It was cute, but talking like this was pointless. "Logan."

"It matters to me," he replied sincerely.

"It matters to me, too," Rory let him know, "I wish I could just degrade her to a faceless, meaningless body…

"That's not your style, Ace…"

Rory scoffed lightly. "It's not really your style, either."

"Denise was really great," Logan admitted, carefully weighing his words. He didn't want this to escalate into a fight, but he needed to let her know. "Leaving you hurt me more than I could admit and she…"

"…helped you get over me?" Rory guessed sarcastically.

"No," Logan denounced that notion flat-out, "but she made it easier to cope."

Her lips tugged upwards, relieved that he wasn't over her. Still her question wasn't answered. "But did you love her?"

"Not like I loved you." He didn't have to think, he just said it and Rory knew it was true. No games, no front. Still, she could not let the tense switch. Loved. Not love. That stung, too, but Rory understood. It was too much, too soon.

Feeling uncomfortable about the sudden focus to his love-life, Logan swiftly changed the subject. "What about Owen?" he asked.

"Owen and I met in a bar and he stopped me from coming the butt of many jokes. I was dancing on the bar, drunk on margaritas, warning people to stay away from the urine mints…" she trailed off as her eyes found his again. "Your fault."

Logan couldn't help but smirk a little as Rory continued. "He didn't want to commit, but we became really good friends – "

" – with benefits – "

Rory ignored the bitterness that lined that statement. "Yes, with benefits. Until he decided that he loved me and I got one the first plane out of town."

Logan sighed heavily as he realized that Rory had done her fair share of suffering, too. "I'm glad you got on that plane."

"Me too." She shot him a soft smile and he extended his arm to her. "Come here, Ace."

Rory walked over to him and took his hand, before he gently pulled her down next to him.

"I guess two wrongs make it alright," Rory said, referring to their ex-significant others.

"I guess," Logan nodded in agreement.

Silence filled the room as they both thought about this statement. At the time, neither Owen or Denise was really wrong, just never as right as this. And yet, Rory wasn't sure, if given the chance, she'd do anything differently.

"I'm not sorry I turned down your proposal," she whispered to him.

"I'm not sorry that I asked," Logan shot back immediately, slightly offended and Rory quickly softened her look.

"I'm just sorry about how it played out…"

His eyebrows rose a little, indicating that he was intrigued as to where she was taking this.

"I know I was the one who turned you down, but I thought you'd understand where I was coming from, why I couldn't marry you…yet." She paused for a small smile. "I guess I didn't think you'd actually walk away."

"I thought you'd come after me, Rory," Logan frowned deeply, remorsefully. "That you'd fight me on my decision."

"You let me go, Logan. You didn't even look back at me," she said. All the anger she had last night had disappeared and made place for vulnerability.

Logan closed his eyes and sighed heavily. He felt Rory rest her head on his shoulder and reflexively his arm found its way around her.

"We both screwed up," Rory concluded sadly and she felt a rumble of laughter from him.

"Badly."

"So where do we go from here?" Rory wanted to know. It was a loaded question, not one with a clean-cut answer.

"I want to be with you, Rory," Logan said, still keeping his eyes closed as he rested on the pillow. "But no fucking around." He opened his eyes and propped himself up on one arm. "I need to know that you are in this for real. I need this to be something real."

The desperation in his tone was all but tangible and the fact that he doubted her cut Rory to her core. "I am, Logan. I want us to be more than the nothing we are now, but Logan, we just can't go back to the way we were."

"Rory…" Logan sighed as he extended an index finger and brushed her cheek lightly, "you and I are not nothing."

The tiny spark of electricity Rory felt confirmed it. "But…" Rory tried but Logan cut her off.

"I know too much has happened to forget about it… but we need to take it slow."

"I like slow." Rory nodded in agreement and Logan's lips tugged upwards at her unintentional double-entendre.

"Good."

A welcome bit of silence passed between them – each had a lot of mull over – but a growl from Rory's stomach caused them both to laugh.

"Some things never change," Logan said, smirking at her as he got up.

"Where you going?" Rory asked as he started picking up clothes of the floor. He tossed some of last night's clothes in her direction. "Get dressed – I'm taking you out for breakfast."

* * *

**Hope you liked. We've got a little last Finnegan encounter and after that maybe one chapter and then I'm thinking epilogue....**


	14. Letting Go

**Oh yes. It's here. Enjoy! **

**Thanks for reviewing! Much love!! **

* * *

Breakfast with Logan.

The thought casually floated around Rory's mind. Obviously, breakfast was the next step on their road to reconciliation. What else would it be? She didn't know and she hadn't had the time or sense of mind to earnestly think about the 'ever after' part of her situation.

She stood in the brightly-lit bathroom, trying to make herself look semi-presentable for her breakfast date – could she call it a date? – with Logan. This was a pretty difficult task considering the limited tools she had to work with. She let last night's clothes de-wrinkle in the steam of her shower and the hotel soaps, body lotion and complementary toothbrush took care of the very basics, but she'd have to forgo her usual brush of mascara and dab of lip gloss, what she'd otherwise consider essentials in getting ready for a date. Especially since a breakfast date – she decided she'd call it a date – was a telling way to start the day. For some, sharing a short stack and eggs signaled the end of a very successful dinner-date. For others, meeting a date for a cup of coffee and a chocolate chip muffin could take the mundane out of an otherwise busy workday.

Rory wasn't fooling herself, though. She and Logan were long past the stage of awkward and exciting first, second and third dates. This was uncharted territory for them both. She pulled the hotel-room blow dryer from its holder on the wall and started drying her hair. This breakfast was significant in the way that it could mark the new starting point for their relationship. But at the same time, it was just breakfast. A cup of coffee and a plate of eggs, maybe a waffle or some toast.

Simple and straightforward, it did not have to be a big deal. Rory needn't make it more complicated than it was, especially since they had done serious last night, what with all the shouting, make-up sex and heart-to-heart-talking.

As she pulled her now-dry hair into a ponytail and examined her make-up free face, she decided that this breakfast should be fun and casual.

* * *

"I just need to go freshen up," Rory told him, before scooting off the bed and heading for the bathroom. He hadn't forgotten how long it took a girl (especially one of the Gilmore persuasion) to get ready. With Denise, he found it an annoying habit, with Rory it was an endearing trip down memory lane. Not only that, he welcomed a little thirty minute or so break from the craziness that turned his life upside down once again. The very first e-mail that rocked his inbox, her stunned face at that nasty Mexican joint, the soft knock on his door a few weeks later, just last night as he sauntered through this generic hotel room vowing to his new outlook on life.

And now he was not-nothing with Rory and taking it slow by grabbing breakfast. He wasn't sure if that was in line with 'taking it slow', he a little experience with ' slow', and he didn't dare let himself delineate that with a timeframe; he could barely think of what would happened after breakfast. But the girl was starving and he could stand to eat something, considering that his only nutrients of late had come in the form of fermented potatoes, so breakfast it was.

The bathroom door cracked open which drew him from his thoughts. He looked up and an immediate smile formed at his lips. For the first time since she'd set foot in this hotel room, he took the time to actually look at her. Her hair long and shiny in a simple ponytail, her face clean and uncovered by any make-up, allowing her blue eyes to sparkle. She bit her bottom lip a little nervously and Logan realized he was staring.

"You look..." A nervous breath escaped him and he swallowed, "…beautiful. I forgot just how gorgeous you are."

Rory's hand went to her neck as she shyly tipped her head forward, casting her gaze to the floor. She mumbled something of a thank-you, before looking up at him, an uncomfortable smile gracing her face.

"I'm sorry," she offered with a wave of her hand, "this is still a little…"

Intense? Awkward? Difficult? Too good to be true? All of the above? She didn't know which description she was going for, but luckily Logan nodded understandingly. He knew. "I'm sorry," he sighed", as he got up from the chair he was sitting in. "I just wanted to…"

"No, don't be sorry," she interrupted him. Compliments were part of being fun and casual. "And you look…" Rory stopped talking to observe him a little more intently.

Last night, opening the door in nothing more than a pair of sweats, he looked drained and tired. This morning, dressed in a pair of khakis and a burgundy polo, some of that spunk that he was missing was back. His eyes seemed a little brighter, his smile a little more sincere.

"… more like the Logan I remember," she remarked with a heartfelt smile, causing them both to chuckle a bit and the uncomfortable moment passed.

"You ready for breakfast, Ace?" Logan asked as he grabbed his wallet from the dresser.

Rory followed suit and grabbed her cell-phone. "Do you mind if we stop by Finn's first?"

"Finn's here?" Logan asked in a surprised tone and she turned to look at him. "How did you think...?"

It wasn't necessary for her to finish that thought and she was grateful Logan knew what she was talking about, since it ventured dangerously close to the serious side of conversation.

"I don't know," Logan shrugged as he opened the door, letting Rory go first. "You showed up here, that's all that mattered."

"Well, I owe that to Finn," Rory told him. "My big Texas escape didn't go according to plan…"

"Because?"

"Because it wasn't so much of a plan, as it was me getting the overwhelming sensation to get the hell out."

The elevator pinged open and the pair stepped in. Logan couldn't help but smirk a little as Rory continued rehashing the story. "So I called Finn. And he flew out of New Orleans and picked me up, talked me down and flew with me to San Francisco and basically planted me in front of your door so I wouldn't chicken out."

"Wow."

"Yep," Rory nodded deeply. "I don't know what I'd done without him – I mean I don't think Hallmark makes a card for that."

"If they did, I'd have to get him one, too," Logan admitted, much to Rory's surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah," Logan sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "Finn basically put me up in the Suite after Denise…"

Rory's eyes went wide as she realized Logan was driving at his breakup to Denise. The Logan she knew wasn't the guy that let a girl break his heart, especially not some stiletto-heeled yoga instructor.

"…turns out that Finn's diet of alcohol is perfectly acceptable for him, but no one else," Logan finished explaining and Rory caught the look in his eye and immediately reassessed her opinion.

There was only one girl that could break Logan's heart and it took a lot to keep the conversation turning back to heavier things as Rory forced a smile. "Yes, but Finn also showers and wears Armani."

Logan rolled his eyes at her playful-sounding statement. "If only my Yale Sweats had an Armani label."

"We owe him big…" Rory said, just as the elevator stopped on Finn's floor.

"Yeah, breakfast probably won't cut it," Logan told Rory, before knocking on Finn's door.

"Well, well," the Aussie boy opened the door cheerily, "What's this I hear about breakfast, mate?"

Before either one could talk, Finn's eyes went wide and his eyebrows shot up as a huge smile captured his face. "Do Finny's eyes deceive him or did you two…?" He pointed at Rory and then at Logan, before waving his finger between them.

Rory cocked her head to the side, ever so slightly, which answered Finn's question, even though Logan tried to steer clear of what had, and had not happened last night. "Rory and I have decided to take it slow," he responded vaguely.

"We are going out for breakfast," Rory added for good measure.

"That sounds lovely," Finn stated, shifting his gaze between Rory and Logan. Sure, their comments might be off-hand and taking it slow was a nice front, but there was no doubt in his mind that his two best friends would figure it out; his intuition hadn't let him down before.

Logan was about to speak, but Finn silenced him. "I know what you are going to say, mate. And that's what friends are for."

"Oh, so wrong," Logan teased good-naturedly, "I was going to say that you pose a striking resemblance to Emily Gilmore, what with your meddling and all."

"Still a compliment, mate," he smiled. "I quite like that old broad. She serves the best salmon puffs."

Rory bobbed her head around in contemplation, "Grandma's got good puffs."

"Sounds mildly dirty," Logan commented dryly and the three of them shared a laugh. For a moment it was like they were back in the Yale dorms, hanging out.

"Oh, join us for breakfast, Finn," Rory said and Logan nodded. "It's the least we can do!"

"No," Finn drew out seriously , "the least you can do is name your first-born Finn.

"What if it's a girl?" Rory asked and he replied without missing a beat. "Finley, of course!"

She and Logan cracked up at Finn's dead-serious tone and expression, before he caved and joined in with a chuckle. "Breakfast would be smashing, but I've got a 2 pm meeting in New Orleans…Have fun you two, play nice. I don't want to fly half-way cross the country again!"

"Yes, sir," Rory and Logan told him, before goodbye-hugs and thank-yous were exchanged. Finn watched as the pair made their way down the hall back to the elevator. They weren't yet holding hands, but Rory's arm was looped through Logan's and their steps were in synch. A delighted sigh passed over Finn's lips. The best man position was definitely going to be his.

* * *

Rory's last visit to San Francisco was tainted. Everything about this place reminded her of that awful night and the life that could have been. Logan tried his best, casually pointing out places he frequented, like the corner grocer and the secondhand bookshop wedged between a high-end fashion boutique and a organic butcher.

Places he went with her? Rory wondered, even though she knew she couldn't keep thinking like that. Logan had been with her, gone places with her. Just like she had done with Owen.

"And down the street is the Wharf," Logan mentioned as he came to a halt in front of a small coffee house. "We can check it out after breakfast, if you want."

"Actually, I've been."

It didn't take long for Logan to put two and two together. "Oh, right." A tiny wave of jealously rushed over him, but he couldn't – didn't – want to say anything about it. As much as hanging out now was like revisiting the good old days of Yale, they'd been apart for nine months. And things had happened and it was hard but he'd get over it; they'd get over it.

"So, is this your usual breakfast place?" Rory asked gesturing at the colorful shop in front on them.

"I've been here a couple times," Logan said, pushing opening the door, "when I first got into town…"

So Denise wasn't a big coffee lover, Rory pieced together. She couldn't contain her smirk as she went inside

"Table in the corner is free, grab it while you can!" someone shouted from the back, "I'll be with you in a minute."

Rory and Logan spotted the table, sat down and started perusing their menus. It was a nice little place, one of the quasi-European, everything is organic here, for the Yup crowd variety. Walls painted with subtle yellow sweeps, white-and-green checkered curtains framed the windows. The tables made of wood with big, stumpy white or green candles haphazardly placed on a few and the wooden chairs stained a light green to match the other decorations.

"Get whatever you want," Logan said as he shifted in his chair and his knee lightly brushed hers. The brief khaki-to-skirt contact caused her to look up and smile, slightly. "What are you getting?"

"Not sure, yet," he said. "Maybe an omelet, or something."

Rory nodded approvingly. "Maybe I'll try the pancakes…"

"…they won't be as good as Luke's." Logan answered her question for her. "Pretty good though."

She shot a smile in his direction – he knew her so well – before glancing back down at the menu.

"My name is Lauren and I'll be your server today." A frizzy-redheaded woman suddenly stood before their table. "Can I start you two off with some coffee?"

"Absolutely," Logan nodded and gestured for Lauren to fill up Rory's mug first, "and would it be a great deal of trouble for you to leave the pot with us?"

The waitress sighed, clearly annoyed by this request, but her mood changed when she saw Logan's dazzling smile. "Sure! No problem. I'll be back in a minute or two to take your order." Logan nodded, dismissing her.

"Oh my god, thank-you!" Rory gushed, emptying a packet of sugar into her coffee. "I hate it when I have to polish off the first cup while they are still at the table to get a refill."

"I remember," Logan chuckled. "I figured this was a coffee morning."

"Definitely," Rory agreed, before taking a big sip. "And this is good coffee."

"More?" Logan asked playfully as he poured her another cup as Lauren reappeared at their table. "Ready to order?"

"I believe so, right?" Logan asked as he jutted out his chin, waiting for Rory to order first.

"I am ready. I'll do two scrambled eggs, two pieces of toast, a side of bacon, a couple of sausage links, and a waffle with strawberries and whipped cream and maybe a cinnamon roll…"

"Anything else?" the waitress asked, eyes wide.

"A little extra icing for the cinnamon role, and maybe a large orange juice, please."

Logan felt the smile tug at his lips as Rory ordered. He loved how she unapologetically ordered huge amounts of food, and actually ate it.

"And for you?" Lauren asked, turning to Logan.

"I'll just have the ham-and-cheese omelet and a short stack," he ordered, "and some orange juice."

"Anything else?"

Logan leaned over and picked up the coffee pot. "We'll probably need an extra one of these."

* * *

Today, all things considered, had been great. Talking was the trend that carried on through the day. Logan had been serious when he said they'd take it slow. No kissing, no brushing away a stray hair, no hand holding. Just sideways glances and smirks.

It was nice. Fun and casual as they both made a conscious effort to move forward and let go of the "others" that plagued the relationship. Somewhere between the fifth pot of coffee at breakfast and the jugs of ice-tea consumed during lunch, Rory and Logan stopped thinking about what was, or what could have been. The focus turned to now, to today, although both were weary of getting too caught up in promises of the future.

Lunch turned into an ice-cream run and a stroll around town, which eventually led them back to the Rothschild City Suites, sprawled out on the floor of the hotel room, eating ordered-in pizza and sharing a few beers.

Logan was talking, going on about some guy he met on a business trip, but Rory wasn't paying attention, she found herself, yet again, drawn to Logan's hand. That beautiful hand she meditated on last night, a hand that held hers many times, fingers that intertwined with hers.

It looked different to her this time, though, as she hadn't experienced such an overwhelming need to simply hold his hand before. Skin-to-skin. Nothing more, nothing less. And it scared her, because she knew that meant that she was falling hard for him, back into that deep, unconditional kind of love. The kind that took crying into crappy hotel coffee at three in the morning to get over.

"You okay?" he asked, his tone laced with a hint of concern. "What's on your mind?"

Rory sat up straight, but avoided meeting his gaze head-on. "I had a good time today."

"Hey," he reached out and squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Me too, no need for the glum face, Ace."

"I know, I'm sorry," she pulled her shoulders into a shrug. "It's just, I wish we could stay here, lying on the floor eating pizza forever."

Logan's breath hitched as Rory's gaze involuntarily went to him. It took every muscle in his body to restrain himself from leaning over, cupping her chin with his hands and kissing her. Lips-to-luscious lips.

Forget taking it slow. Slow was rational, but impossible for them. Even way back when, when they were tangled up in a string-less mess, their relationship was punctuated with serious undertones. It used to scare him, now he craved commitment and he wanted it from her. It had to be from her. All it took was breakfast, lunch and a scoop of ice-cream for him to have far too much invested in this.

He averted his gaze slightly - staring at her was distracting. "Me too."

"We can't though," Rory said in sad realization.

Logan took a sip of his beer as Rory carried on. "I mean, you've got a job to get back to, and I've got to find a job. I doubt I'd be allowed back on the trail…"

He cocked his head to the side and pulled his left shoulder up in a shrug. "Would you want to, though?"

Rory's eyebrows shot up in surprise at his question and she snorted. "No."

"Well, you can…" he started to suggest, but Rory cut him off. "But I shouldn't."

They locked eyes for a brief moment, before reaching for their beer bottles and mulling that possibility over.

"Probably not, no." Logan said after a few seconds of silence. Rory gave him a vaguely shocked looked – obviously not the answer she'd been expecting.

"Ace, I can't tell you what to do," he said, his voice straining slightly. " I can't make you stay even though I don't want you to go."

His words caught Rory off guard and she practically choked in a bite of extra-cheesy pizza, but Logan was too caught up in his own rambling to notice. "I mean if I did and then… I don't want… I just can't. This has to be your decision," he concluded with a poignant look in her direction.

Rory scoffed inwardly, since when did he become so damn rational? "So, what if I go back to Stars Hallow?" she asked in a small voice.

Logan inhaled deeply and explained what'd happen if she indeed returned to home. "You'd stay with your Mom until you found a job. And you'd eat a lot of junk food and Thai on Tuesdays at Al's Pancake World and you'd have 24 access to the best waffles of the nation and Luke's coffee…"

"Don't joke."

"Rory…"

"Logan, just tell me what you want me to do," Rory said pleadingly. But what she really wanted to hear was that he needed her just as much as she needed him. She so desperately wanted him to reach over and take her hand in his. But she didn't get that.

"I want you to be happy," he said, silently cursing himself for what he said next. "I honestly don't know if you'd be happy in San Francisco. You aren't a home-made guacamole eating kind of girl."

A faint smile cracked on Rory's face. "You and I were never home-made people, Logan. Store-bought, ordered-in, definitely. Home-made? Never." She emphasized her point with a heavy nod.

"I don't know what I was thinking," Logan admitted with a grin, but Rory's questioning once again dragged them both back down to the murky world of real-life. "But where does that leave us, then?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. Trying this in San Francisco didn't guarantee them a happily-ever-after either. It'd have to be long-distance if she'd move back to Stars Hallow, for the time being at least. "I have to be in Boston the day after tomorrow."

" Really?" Rory was a bit taken aback that he didn't volunteer this information a little sooner, but it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

"We are looking at branching out," Logan told her and he saw the connections her mind was making. "The original plan was New York, but that deal fell through when that flight got cancelled."

"That's harsh!"

" Those guys were jerks," Logan waved the failed deal away, "I doubt we'd do business with them…"

"And these Bostonians?"

Logan smiled, knowing exactly in which direction she wanted the business deal to go. Frankly, he wouldn't mind it either, but he didn't know. He raised his hands as he tipped his head to the side. "We'll have to see how it goes."

"Right," Rory nodded, letting herself fall back on the plush carpeting. She was getting ahead of herself. Being in San Francisco, in an IKEA-like hotel room messed with her mind. Logan lied down next to her, their bodies mere inches apart but neither one touching.

"I think I should go back to Stars Hallow," she said, keeping her eyes fixed on the ceiling above.

"I think that'd be good," Logan said as he took her hand in his and squeezed it. "We'll make this work, Ace," he said, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. "I need you." The kiss following his revelation sealed the deal.

* * *

**Remember the e-mail sessions? Yeah. I might give that a try that for the next ( the last?!) chapter. Hope you liked this one! **


	15. Lovers: The Email Sessions

**So you know how I said I'd never revisit the email sessions? Yeah. I lied. Big time. Here are 20 or so emails between Rory and Logan. Be aware there are some time jumps between the emails, but the total time is about 3 months. **

* * *

**To**: Logan Huntzberger

**From**: Rory Gilmore

**Subject**: Hello

Logan,

Thanks for arranging car service from Boston to Stars Hollow. The limo (you knew it had a coffee bar, didn't you?) was certainly way more comfortable than any train/bus/taxi combination I would have come up with. In hindsight, though, it probably wasn't the best idea to roll back into town in a stretch limo. You know, it's not really the type of vehicle that allows for inconspicuously sneaking back into town. Should you yourself ever want to use this method, take note: a scene will ensue.

Oh, that's right: Kirk pulled me over. And before I tell you the story – wipe that smirk off your face. It's not funny!

Alright, okay, it is… kind of.

Apparently, Kirk is the new police deputy and he dressed for the part. Old-school sheriff's hat and all. The pulling over itself wasn't so bad, it was that it happened in front of Luke's – Kirk was loading up on coffee and doughnuts when he spotted the limo and yelled "suspicious activity", before sprinting into action. Townspeople followed and a collective gasp was heard as I stepped out of the car.

I wasn't sure if Mom was going to burst into tears, yell or faint. Kirk started reading me my rights, but Luke put the kibosh on that quickly. And now I'm home. In my old room, sitting on my old bed. It's weird.

Mom and I still haven't talked, she's out getting Al's, Joe's and Luke's, in preparation for the Big Reunion Talk. But that'll be weird, too. I hope she understands, but I don't know. I kept a lot of the happenings on the trail from her...

Hope you survived your back-to-back meetings. Let me know how it went!

Rory

* * *

**To: **Rory Gilmore

**From: **Logan Huntzberger

**Subject: **Hello, Goodbye

Ace,

I cannot believe you think I'm sitting here smirking! I've never smirked a day in my life!

You're right, though. In retrospect returning to glorious Stars Hollow in a limo probably wasn't the best way to do so. I'm sorry. However, I bet it made the front page of the Stars Hallow Gazette and that's got to count for something, no?

I am sitting on one of those neon green swivel chairs, the kind that are so popular in the Rothschild City Suites. I swear it is the exact same chair that was in our room in San Francisco. I'll be able to conduct an in-depth comparison soon – unfortunately the meetings with the Bostonians were a bust.

The whole buying-up-and-reselling-companies-business seems better suited for the West-Coast. It figures; isn't that where Ed Lewis ran his business, too?

I've got a flight out to San Francisco early tomorrow morning. I wish I didn't have to go back so soon, but work is calling.

I did not realize that you kept a lot of the happenings on the trail from your Mom. And by "happenings", I'm assuming you mean Owen, that awful Mexican dinner, Denise, Finn being your knight in shining armor and our last couple of days in San Francisco. I'd offer to talk to Lorelai myself, but I don't know if that'd make things better or worse. Let me know if there is anything I can do!

Miss you,

Logan

PS: I was fully aware the limo came equipped with a coffee bar.

* * *

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore

**Subject: **Question

Logan,

Thank you for offering to talk to my mom, but she and I just really needed to talk. You should find it amusing that you both share the same opinion of Owen. I believe she even referred to him as "that man-boy-child who couldn't even officially date my daughter." But don't breathe a sigh of relief just yet, you're still not on her good side either. You'll get there, though. The whole conversation was intense, but in a good way. I guess I didn't realize how much I missed her, how much I missed being home.

I'm sorry your meetings didn't work out. I'm disappointed and I hate Edward Lewis. How much would it freak you out if I told you that I had pictured myself working at the Boston Globe?

I don't quite know where that leaves us. I think I'm am going to stay in Stars Hollow for a while. At first, I thought I'd stay a few weeks, you know, just to get back on my feet, but I just…I feel so at home here. I don't think I can go to San Francisco. Not now at least.

I'm sorry.

Does this mean we're over?

But I still miss you. More than you could ever know.

Rory.

PS: Thanks for the coffee

* * *

**To: **Rory Gilmore**  
****  
From: **Logan Huntzberger

**Subject: **RE: Question

Ace, Ace, Ace,

Don't apologize. Please don't apologize. We're not over - I meant what I said when I told you that I wanted you to be happy first.

I know you could hop on the next flight to San Francisco. You could get a job at the Chronicle. We could play house and be all lovely together. It sounds great, but it'd never work – we wouldn't be happy. You'd wonder "what if" and maybe you'd even come to resent that life; resent me. And I don't want that.

The same goes for me. I could turn right back around and give those bastards in Boston what they want, or sign my life away at HPG. Mitchum would jump at the chance. But it wouldn't be good for me. For us. So don't hate Edward Lewis.

Maybe it's the jetlag talking, maybe it's the viewing of some chick-flick on the plane, but I really think we need to have this time apart, so that we don't rush into things, so that we won't regret anything later.

I'm sure it sounds crazy, but the way I see it, we are two people who are indefinably and undoubtedly linked. You belong to me. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it doesn't have to be all or nothing right now, because I know we'll get to be "all" eventually.

Love,

Logan

* * *

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore

**Subject: **Seriously?!

Wow.

Um. Are you sure you don't want to swap the Ed Lewis business for filling in for Dr. Phil sometime? Because those are some pretty psychological analyses you've made there.

I don't mean to mock. It's just that, Logan, how do you know? And what's more, why now? You "belonged" to me in senior year of college. When I kicked you with my spurs you didn't spook – remember?

Except, of course, when I turned down your proposal. In retrospect, I never really turned you down. I was sorry and not ready. But I was willing to try anything to make it work. And that wasn't good enough for you.

So you walked away.

And now, out of nowhere, long distance is good enough, because we are " "indefinably and undoubtedly linked" so it doesn't have to be "all or nothing" right now. Seriously, Logan? Seriously?!

How come that wasn't enough when I wanted it?

"Because I was hurt and confused," you'll say and smirking you'll add. "We are linked. You belong to me, Ace."

And I know that. I know that because you belong to me, too. But who's to say we won't make those mistakes again?

I can see you cock your head to the side and sigh. "It's a trust thing," you'll say. And you'll add something vaguely metaphorical about living hundreds of years without ever really living for a minute.

You are winning me over.

Damn it, Logan, since when did you become so freaking rational? Weren't you the impulsive one? Aren't you the one who is supposed to tell me to fuck it all and get on the next plane instead of staying in Stars Hollow?

* * *

**To: **Rory Gilmore

**From: **LoganHuntzberger

**Subject: **Yes, seriously.

Rory,

I grew up; I'm not the same irresponsible college boy. Believe me, tonight I wish I was the guy that could tell you to fuck it all and get on the next plane out. But I can't.

I spent my first week in San Francisco in bed. Alone, apart from pizza boxes and bottles of scotch Finn brought over. I started work the next week and it was dinner and bed alone every day for the longest time, until Finn got fed-up and dragged me out to that filthy bar. Denise was… _there_, but there wasn't a day that didn't go by that I didn't think about you.

It's always been you. The only voice I want to hear on the phone. The only editor whose feedback I'd take seriously. The only person who can carry a conversation from Jonathon Swift to Taylor Swift. Yours are the only lips I want to kiss.

You get me, Rory, completely and totally and without question. That's how I know you and I are linked. And it took me a while to realize that our connection ran that deep; I honestly didn't know that when I proposed. I just knew I loved you. Still love you. Never stopped loving you.

Now I understand how unprepared for marriage you were, but to me it still felt like rejection. I shouldn't have walked away, but I can't keep apologizing for that.

This is not over for me. It'll never be over for me. This long-distance thing is temporary – don't you think we're worth the in between?

Love,

Logan

PS: You (or is that me?) are right. It is a trust thing.

* * *

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore

**Subject: **You jump I jump, Jack.

I've been sitting here for an hour, pouring over your e-mail, trying to come up with something brilliant to write. Some argument to make.

But all I can think if is "yes".

Yes, this is temporary.

Yes, we are worth the in between.

Yes, we are indefinably and undoubtedly linked.

Yes, his lips are the ones I want to kiss.

Yes, I loved you.

Still love you.

Never really stopped.

It's you, yes.

It's always been you.

* * *

**To: **Rory Gilmore****

From: Logan Huntzberger****

Subject: This time difference sucks.

Ace!

Sorry I had to hang up so abruptly. Mini-dramas to fix and conference calls to attend. I would call back, but by now you are probably as sleep, or so engrossed in a movie you wouldn't hear the ring of your phone. So, what were you going to tell me about Vegas?

Wish I was there watching a movie with you,

Logan

PS: As long as it's not Pippi.

* * *

**To: **Logan Huntzberger****

From: Rory Gilmore****

Subject: It does.

Hey you!

Don't worry. It's business, I get it. I miss it. This temporary gig at the Stars Hollow Gazette is nice, but there are only so many times one can write about Kirk getting into trouble before it becomes tiresome.

Anyway. Vegas is calling. Mom, Lane, Sookie and I booked a girlie-weekend away for the middle of April. That's 8 weeks from now. What do you think if I'd extend my trip to include a couple of days in SF?

PS: And we'd totally be watching Pippi!

* * *

**To: **Rory Gilmore

**From: **Logan Huntzberger

**Subject: **But you'll be in this time zone soon!

Well, I think this Rothschild Hotel Bed is very lonely without you. I'm clearing my schedule for the third week of April.

PS: I'm sure that's a typo.

* * *

**To: **Logan Huntzberger****

From: Rory Gilmore  
**  
Subject: **This is so. I've missed those neon green chairs.

Good. Can't wait.

And I know this thing is temporary, but shouldn't you find a real place to live?

No offense.

PS: No, we'd watch Pippi Longstocking or Willy Wonka. Or Casablanca.

* * *

**To: **Rory Gilmore  
**  
From: **Logan Huntzberger  
**  
Subject: **I'll have to ask Finn for a couple. If I ever move out that is.

None taken. Maybe I should look for a 'real' place, I guess I should since this 'grown up' thing has been working for me, but I like room service too much.

Too bad the SHG isn't a little more exciting for you… any luck on your other leads?

PS: I guess it doesn't matter which movie – we wouldn't be watching it anyway.

* * *

**To: **Logan Huntzberger****

From: Rory Gilmore  
**  
Subject: **I want one, too!

Actually, yes. Just as I was going to give into staying with the SGH and writing about Kirk's antics, ProJo called. I got an interview for a full time, junior features position. It's an hour and a half from home, so if I get the job, I'd move to Rhode Island. Keep your fingers crossed for me?

PS: Dirty. But oh so true.

* * *

**To: **Rory Gilmore  
**  
From: **Logan Huntzberger****

Subject: I'll make the call.

Ace!

Congratulations on interviewing at ProJo! The job sounds perfect for you and Rhode Island is a nice place; I think you'd like it there. My fingers are crossed !

Thanks for the coffee maker, too! I'm naming him Pete. The front-desk receptionist looked at me like I was crazy for hauling a big fancy coffee machine up to my room, but Pete is definitely worth the dirty looks. I never quite knew the pain you went through enduring the substandard hotel brew. It almost made me look into apartments. But now that I have Pete…

PS: You know it.

* * *

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore****

Subject: I get you a coffee maker – you get me an original Rothschild chair! That's love!

You are welcome; I figured you'd be dying for a decent cup of coffee, but Pete is NOT a name for a coffee machine; you cannot call him Pete. That's so ordinary and lacking in personality. Your coffee maker's got style, he's got flair. Call it René or Roberto or Enrique or Frederique… something exotic!

Love you!

PS: I got the job.

* * *

**To**: Rory Gilmore

**From**: Logan Huntzberger

**Subject:** CONGRATULATIONS ACE.

"I got the job" does not belong in the PS! That belongs in CAPS and font size 92 in bold letters across the screen. And it warrants a phone call. How come you didn't call? Doesn't matter what time it is – with news like that you should call!! I'm calling you now.

PS: I like Pete. I'm sticking with Pete. And the coffee is excellent.

* * *

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore  
**  
Subject: **I hate you. And your hair that could sell shampoo to a bald man.

Remind me next time, would you, that changing my pretty, pretty, no-stops, afternoon flight with a 4 pm arrival time to the multiple-stopovers -last-flight-of the day with a arrival time of 4 am is not a good idea.

No matter how comfortable that Rothschild hotel bed is. No matter how good it feels to run my hands through your hair. No matter how captivating your smile is. No matter how good hearing you say "I love you" face to face is.

Next time you're visiting me.

* * *

**To: **RoryGilmore****

From: Logan Huntzberger

**Subject: **But you really love me. Especially my hair.

Deal.

In fact, I'll be in your neck of the woods next week. New meetings. New Bostonians. Fingers crossed?

* * *

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**From: **Rory Gilmore

**Subject: **True.

New Bostonians? When did this happen?! It has to have happened in the last five minutes or so, otherwise I'm sure you would have called me! Anything involving visiting me or new Bostonians deserves a call. Even if I'm still recovering from my cross-country flight.

So when "next week" are you coming? And how long are you staying? And who exactly are these new Bostonians?

PS: I checked my phone – 12 missed calls. Did I mention I was really, really tired? Sorry for the above rant. Love you.

* * *

**To**: Rory Gilmore

**From**: Logan Huntzberger

**Subject**: You are cute when you are jetlagged and caffeinated.

Next week is Wednesday through Sunday, with business meetings on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. And we might have to use the weekend for apartment hunting if the meeting with these new Bostonians go well. If I land the gig, I'd have six months to divvy up and re-sell this old publishing house among several other publishing houses in Boston. It's not the type of job I'd usually take – not one of Ed Lewis type proportions – but it offers some interesting possibilities. For one, six months in Boston, which is 50 miles from Providence, which is far better than the 3000 miles between us now. And secondly, how much would it freak you out if I told you that I'm seriously considering buying a little piece of that publishing house and starting something in Boston?

I've attached my itinerary, so you can start planning.

Can't wait to see you!

* * *

**And that's it for the e-mails. It's a bit of a cliffhanger, but it'll be resolved in the next chapter, which will definitely be the last. And it'll be good. I promise. Thank you as always for reading and reviewing this story! **


	16. Answer

**I had the final scene for this in my mind as soon as I posted the first chapter and I am sorry I made you wait so long for it. **

**Thank you all for reading along and loving this as much as you have! I write for myself, yes, but also for you and to know that you appreciate it, love it, review it, makes it all the more worthwhile! ****

* * *

**

Logan's weeklong stay in Boston turned into a full six months – he had arrived late that Wednesday afternoon, met with his clients early Thursday morning and by Thursday afternoon he was in talks with three of eight publishing houses in the Boston area, heading negotiations to divvy up the sinking organization.

That same afternoon, he'd had been on the phone with Finn, who arranged for Logan's belongings at the Rothschild in San Francisco to be moved to a suite at the Rothschild in Boston. He'd gotten an earful from Rory. "Don't be silly, Logan. I've got room and it's only an hour's drive away!" she made her argument and even added that she'd throw in a set of Ginsu knifes, but he was adamant about them not living together and he told her that over dinner that night.

Just as he'd said that night when she showed up at his doorstep, as they lay twisted and tangled up in sheets after hours of fighting, he wanted this to be something real. No fucking around. No rushing. He wanted to start over. And starting over was not living together; it was dating. And not dating in the "meet-me-at-the-bar-for-drinks" way, but old-fashioned-trying-to-win-your-heart courting.

There were flowers, leisurely dinners out and midnight strolls. Chaste kisses at the revolving doors of her apartment complex and calling her later to wish her a good night. After a while, she invited him upstairs to her place and provided him with an ordered in dinner and a night of movies.

It was slow-going alright but they were happy. Both happier than they'd been in a long time. Slowly, he was beginning to feel like he was hers – completely hers – again. No more Owen. No more Denise. Rory belonged to him and Logan belonged to Rory. And there was just 50 short miles separating them.

Sure, they were committed for the long-distance part – the "in-between" as Logan called it. But it was a vicious circle of constant catch-up. The time difference sometimes made it difficult to call and when they did speak, conversation didn't always flow.

Funny stories didn't always translate due to the lack of gestures and expression and things she'd rant about during the day, suddenly didn't seem so important after the fact. And he worked hard and was tired. She heard it in his voice and all she wanted to do was reach out and hug him; soothe his tired soul which was so hard to do from 3000 miles away.

And frequent trips ensured they saw each other regularly but these trips were always brief and dreamlike, never resembling realness. Those trips were about spending as much time together as possible, soaking up every inch of each other.

And now that Logan had been secured in Boston for at least six months, they both felt that they had some time, some breathing room, to take things slow. Become a couple again. And they had.

It was perfect, except that Logan was set to leave again. While he proved to be successful at breaking down and re-selling assets of a company, he wasn't as gifted in running his own publishing house. He'd invested some of his money in Big Books, the most promising one, but he was a silent backer – there was nothing he could do there and there wasn't much he could do on the East coast, save for go to NYC and return to his father's business, and both Rory and Logan knew that that was a bad idea.

In San Francisco he'd built up contacts, a network, a stream of things to do. And Rory did not want to move out West – she'd come to realize that she was an East Coast girl through and through. She'd miss home too much and her career at Pro Jo was advancing nicely. Logan thought she'd worked too hard the last year to throw it all away to take a lower position at the Chronicle.

Rory felt like her heart was being shattered in a million little pieces and she wanted to stomp her feet and scream it wasn't fair. Logan took her in his arms and his words – though clearly laced by pain - comforted her.

They were solid, things were good and they'd get better. This was still the in between, after all. And his kiss assured her that they were worth it and that it wasn't over, that it'd never be over.

* * *

So, like a good girlfriend, she'd booked his return ticket. Monday at 10:00 am. They'd have one last weekend together and she was determined to push the hurt aside and make the best of their time.

Saturday, they had breakfast at a street side café, they went to a museum and picnicked in the park. Dinner, Rory decided, would be at their favorite Asian place. "Theirs" because they'd discovered it together the weekend the burger joint Rory wanted to show him turned out to be closed.

"You planned quite a day." Logan let out a fake yawn as to emphasize his point and Rory laughed. "Tired you out so soon?"

He let the "dirty" that burned on the tip of his tongue slide and reached over the table to take her hand. He looked at her sweetly, gratefully, a hint of sadness in them and the topic that Rory had pushed to the farthest corners of her mind had forced it's way to the front. He was leaving.

"Don't look at me like that," Rory managed with a faint smile. "We've … there's … time. Tomorrow."

"That's right," Logan nodded humoring her, "What have you planned? Morning yoga? A trip to the beach? New York City, perhaps?"

"Yoga?" Rory cried in mock outrage, "No. I ordered Godfather I II and III off Netflix. I'm thinking movie day?"

He smirked approvingly. "Snacks?"

"Taken care of."

"Excellent," he said, the laughter creeping back into his voice. "I got to tell you, Ace, after that day you planned today a man needs a movie day to recover."

She playfully swatted him with the menu and they'd laughed and joked and talked all through the seven courses of dinner. But, gradually, the mood changed, as if a dark rain cloud grew on an otherwise blue sky.

That night, her kisses seemed more needy and his touches, lustier. It was slow, neither of them wanting it to end, knowing that after tomorrow, it'd be a long time until they could sleep in the same bed.

Eventually, Rory rolled away from him and fell into a restless sleep while Logan lay flat on his back, awake, his mind battling his heart. To his heart, it was a simple equation (him + her should be together) but his mind was buzzing with reasons why he couldn't stay in Boston. His network was in San Francisco. He'd worked hard to build a valuable reputation there. Rory hated San Francisco, she wouldn't want to leave. And they were solid. It hurt to leave, but it'd be worth it in the end, he tried to still his aching heart.

And maybe, just maybe, he was scared. Maybe it wouldn't work out between them. Long-distance took a lot of trust to make work and they made it work, but maybe being around each other 24/7 would be too much. Too good to be true. And then what? He lead her on to believe this was just the in-between, but maybe it turned to be their all? It was safe, they were successful – why would he want to mess with that?

For all that he'd grown up, commitment was something that had scarred him. Maybe because it backfired the first time? He didn't know and a deep, heart wrenching sob drew him from his melancholy thoughts and back to the present.

Rory was crying and before he could sit up and wrap his arms around her, her head was buried in his neck, her body shaking with deep, heavy sobs and her tears soaking his naked chest. Logan soothingly stroked her back, whispering quiet words and pressed gentle kisses into her hair. Rory calmed down after a while and pulled away from his grip.

Her tear stained eyes looked up at him and a tiny sniffle escaped her. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Ace," he told her, running his worried eyes over her frame. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing – hormones," she lied, but he knew her better than that.

"Ace." He kept his soft, but stern, eyes on her which urged her to answer truthfully.

"I'm just… I'll miss you, okay?"

"I'll miss you, too, Ace," he said and his heart broke for her – for them.

"I don't want us to be apart any longer, Logan," Rory sniffled, clinging to his chest like a small child.

"It'll be okay, Ace," Logan assured her, trying to remind himself what he'd reasoned and trying to sound confident as he told her, "we made it through the first time and we're much stronger than we were before…"

"That'll just make it harder."

"I'll visit more often," he bargained, "I'll try to get more East coast clients…"

She pulled away from him a little, eying him through blurred vision to make sure he wasn't joking. "Really?"

"Yeah. Everything will be okay." But his voice wavered, letting it slip that he wasn't so sure, and the hopefulness in her features faded.

"Everything won't be okay, Logan!" she yelled and bawled up the sheets in frustration. "You are leaving – how can that be okay? And what'll happen? I'll fly out and see you and call you every day and write every day and you'll visit me too? Maybe get a job out here for a few months out of the year? And that'll be our lives? How is that going to be okay?"

"It'll work itself out," he said, but it came out more like a question.

"You don't know that!" she hurled back, growing angry, feeling led on, "and that's a pretty big thing to gamble!"

"I want to take that gamble…," his eyes searched hers desperately, "…you don't?"

Her heart was racing, it pounded heavy in her chest; so heavy she heard the thump, thump in her ear drums. Deafening. He was here with her and she didn't want to let him go. She wasn't going to gamble away that.

He could have his newfound rational way of looking at things, but tonight, she didn't feel like being rational.

Love wasn't rational. It was breathtaking, heart-pounding, dizzy-making, all-encompassing. Every emotion, every feeling, it was everything. And she knew good love was hard to find and a great love even harder.

She'd let him slip away once and she'd be damned if she let it happen again. And he was a fool for thinking she'd be willing to gamble; risk him. Them.

"Not like this," she said, shaking her head and she scooted off the bed, to her closet to grab a suitcase.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm packing," Rory said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to pack a suitcase at 4 in the morning. "I'm going to San Francisco with you."

"No you are not," Logan said, trying to scramble out of bed. "Ace, I know you're upset, I don't want to go either, but I have to and you can't come with me – you said so yourself, you're not a California girl…"

She waved dismissively, "I'll listen to Katy Perry. I'll get used to it."

"You won't," Logan said with a sad shake of his head. "You can't. You told me you can't."

With a handful of T-shirts in her left hand, she turned to look at him. "Then what am I supposed to do? Let you get on that plane? I don't want long-distance anymore, Logan. I'm tired of the in between."

He stayed silent for a moment and Rory blinked a few times, a new realization dawning on her, "do you want to go?"

It was an out. She was offering him an out. Somewhere, buried deep between the lines, it was an ultimatum. This, right now, in this room, was where he truly felt the impact of "all or nothing". He swallowed hard. The ball was still in his court. He wanted her. No messing about. Her suitcase at her feet, t-shirts in hand, told him that she wasn't messing, not anymore. She wanted him too. All of him.

"No."

She blinked, slowly at first, then faster until the tears came. She dropped the ball of t-shirts and he was next to her.

"Then don't go."

He smirked. Coming from here it sounded so simple, so easy. Made so much sense - since when had she become so rational? – and he embraced her, kissing her hair first, then using his thumbs to brush the tears off her cheeks, and finally, as the tears subsided, he kissed her. A kiss that sealed the deal.

The next morning, Rory awoke to the smell of waffles and eggs and she smiled an involuntary smile. Logan wasn't going. They could still have their movie night and eat ice cream and order pizza, but he wasn't getting on that plane Monday morning.

With a goofy grin on her face, she shuffled into the kitchen and kissed him good morning. Smiling he presented her with a cup of coffee and a sense of calm washed over her. She caught the excited look in his eyes, but he didn't speak until she finished her cup and had a refill.

"So, you look happy…"

"I cancelled my ticket," he informed her proudly. "And I quit my job."

"You what?"

"I e-mailed this morning…" he explained casually, as he scrambled the eggs.

The corners of her mouth tugged upwards in a funny smile. "I was serious though," she told him. "We can move to San Francisco. Get your job back, or find something else, if you want…"

"And for that I'm thankful. You are the best, Ace," he told her as scooped up some eggs on the plate, "but we'll see. I think I'm over San Francisco…"

He was acting a little strange, but maybe that was the effect of fusing two lives together, Rory didn't know. So she let him be and they ate their eggs in a happy silence, one that was punctuated by stolen glances and smirks.

"I'm going to wash these dishes," he said, "why don't you check your e-mail?"

"My e-mail?" she asked, brows furrowed.

"You've been neglecting your mom all week and we'll be busy all day watching movies, so…"

Logan had a point – a good one at that – but she still couldn't help feeling a little suspicious about his behavior. She grabbed her laptop and sat down in her neon green Rothschild chair, the one he shipped to her.

Rory popped it open, waited patiently for the boot-up and for her emails to be retrieved.

She didn't look at her work related emails, or the funny mails Finn sent her, or the music file Lane sent her, or her Grandma's invitations to DAR functions, or the unread note her Mom sent. No, her eyes locked on that first bold line in her inbox: From: Logan Huntzberger. Subject: Question.

Her heartbeat sped up a little and a film of anxious sweat cover her palms as she looked over her shoulder. A huge grin on his face, he was walking toward her, and let himself fall on the couch.

"Anything good?" he asked.

Confused, she looked from him to her screen and back again. His smile urged her to open it.

* * *

**To: **Rory Gilmore

**From: **Logan Huntzberger

**Subject: **Question

Will you marry me?

* * *

She whipped her head around – his eyes shined brightly and his smile seemed a mile wide. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Slowly, thoughtfully, she cocked her head to the side. "But you love San Francisco?"

He smirked a little. "Not as much as I love you."

She leaned back in her neon green Rothschild hotel chair in awe. She'd spent many a night, aimlessly surfing on-line, crying into cold coffee, in similar hotel chairs around the country, trying to take her mind of things, off him, but hearing those words, from him, and reading the words on her screen, there was only one thing on her mind.

With a huge grin to match his, she hit the reply button. And she knew everything would be okay.

* * *

**From: **Rory Gilmore

**To: **Logan Huntzberger

**Subject: **RE: Question

YES!

=THE END=

* * *

**Soooo. This is it. I'm a little sad because, well, it's a little sad to end something that's been a year in the making. It's been a long bumpy ride for Logan and Rory (and so sad to see Owen go, because, well, I kind of liked him!) and now it's complete. They've got their happily ever after. No sequel. I'm done with the drama for them in this story. It's all rainbows and butterflies for them now. They deserve that, don't you think? **


End file.
